-/  .3.0^ 


V'  .wo. 


« 


^  PRINCETON,  N.  J.  ^4f, 


Presented   by  C^TX v:S  .lJ\  V^r\  (D\  a.  (3tvAU  O^ 
BX^119    .A33    1863 
Aids   to   prayer 


.i ' 


>♦.    ».  H  N 


X     • »  ►%> 


(U/^,^^^^X^     '^ 


13V  w     y 

Aids  to  Prayer. 


"  More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 

Than  this  world  dreams  of. 

For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep  or  goats, 
That  nourish  a  bUnd  life  within  the  brain, 
If,  knowing  God,  they  lift  not  hands  of  prayer 
Both  for  themselves  and  those  who  call  them  friend  ? 
For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 
Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God." 

Tesnvson. 


NrbD-gcrk : 

DEALER    IX    RELIGIOUS    BOOKS, 

6S3    BROADWAY. 

1863. 


COISlTElfTS. 


PAGB 
INTRODUCTION, 5 

OUR  FATHER, 15 

GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY,       .  .  .  .    33 

THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER,        ....  51 

THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR.     .  .  .  .  .77 

"  COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE,"  .  .  91 

THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER, 113 

THE  AID  OF  THE  SPIRIT,  .  .  .  .125 

HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD, 139 

THE  PRAYER-MEETING,  .  .  .  .147 

THE  PRAYERLESS  LIFE,       .  .  .  .  .159 

APPENDIX, In 


Kntrotruction, 


Acts  xvii.  25-28. 
"  He  giveth  to  all  life,  and  breath,  and  all  things ;  and  hath 
made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men  for  to  dwell  on  all 
the  face  of  the  earth  ;  and  hath  determined  the  times  before 
appointed,  and  the  bounds  of  their  habitation ;  that  they 
should  seek  the  Lord,  if  haply  they  might  feel  after  him,  and 
find  him,  though  he  be  not  far  from  every  one  of  us  :  for 
in  him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being ;  as  certain 
also  of  your  own  poets  have  said,  For  we  are  also  his  off- 
spring." 

1  Thess.  v.  17. 
"  Pray  without  ceasing." 

1  Tim.  ii.  S. 
"  I  will  therefore  that  men  pray  every  where,  lifting  up  holy 
hands,  without  wrath  and  doubting.*' 

ISA.  Iv.  6-7. 
"  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye  upon  him 
while  he  is  near.  Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the 
unrighteous  man  his  thoughts  :  and  let  him  return  unto  the 
Lord,  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  him  :  and  to  our  God, 
for  he  will  abundantly  pardon." 

Ps.  xxxiv.  10. 

"  The  young  lions  do  lack,  and  suffer  hunger :  but  they  Uiat 
seek  the  Lord  shall  not  want  any  good  thing." 


*'  My  God  !  is  any  hour  so  sweet, 

From  blush  of  morn  to  evening  star, 
As  that  which  calls  me  to  Thy  feet, 

The  hour  of  prayer  ? 

"  Blest  is  the  tranquil  hour  of  morn, 
And  blest  that  hour  of  solemn  eve, 
When,  on  the  wings  of  prayer  upborne, 
The  world  I  leave. 

"  Then  is  my  strength  by  Thee  renewed  ; 
Then  are  my  sins  by  Thee  forgiven  ; 
Then  dost  thou  cheer  my  solitude 

With  hopes  of  heaven. 

"  No  words  can  tell  what  sweet  relief 
There  for  my  every  want  I  find  ; 
What  strength  for  warfare,  balm  for  grief, 
What  peace  of  mind. 

•'  Hushed  is  each  doubt,  gone  every  fear 
My  spirit  seems  in  heaven  to  stay ; 
And  e'en  the  penitential  tear 

Is  wiped  away. 

**  Lord  !  till  I  reach  that  blissful  shore 
No  privilege  so  dear  shall  be, 
As  thus  my  inmost  soul  to  pour 

In  prayer  to  Thee." 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


)Inttot»uction, 


WE  have  always  been  affected  by  the 
*'^  petition  of  the  disciples  to  the  Sav- 
iour, "Lord,  teach  us  how  to  pray." 
How  many  yet  would  fain  address  the 
same  request,  with  simplicity  and  con- 
scious Y/ant,  to  Christ ! 

If  the  first  moments  of  the  morning, 
the  very  first  thoughts  of  the  day  are 
given  to  prayer,  it  wdll  be  found,  at  least 
in  many  cases,  to  give  direction  to  the 
feelings  of  the  whole  day.  The  keynote 
of  the  day  is  struck  early.  And,  simple 
as  it  may  seem,  we  have  forced  a  few 
moments  in  the  morning  to  hold  the  day 
to  its  course,  as  a  rudder  does  the  ship. 
Some  persons,  we  suspect,  fail  of  interest 
in  prayer  by  attempting  to  pray  by  the 
clock.     They  have  been   taught  that  a 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

regular  time  and  an  appointed  place  are 
eminently  beneficial.  They  liave  tried 
the  time  with  so  many  failures,  that  the 
place,  by  association  and  memory  of  ill 
success,  becomes  disgustful.  We  are  not 
about  to  say  that  punctuality  and  rega- 
larit}^  are  not  good,  but  only  that  they 
are  not  alike  good  for  all ;  and  that  when 
experience  shows  that  they  hinder  and 
do  not  lielp,  Christians  are  under  no  law 
to  the  clock.  Persons  of  regulated  feel- 
ings, of  methodical  habits,  and  of  uniform 
occupations,  find  great  advantage  in 
stated  hours  of  prayer.  People  of  mer- 
curial dispositions,  who  live  without  spe- 
cial arrangement  and  system,  will  find, 
on  the  contrary,  that  such  attempts  at 
punctuality  will  not  help  them,  except  as 
an  exercise  in  method  and  regularity. 

If  a  man  should  insist  upon  wallowing 
in  the  sand  when  the  tide  was  out,  be- 
cause he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  bathe 
in  one  place  and  at  one  hour,  he  would 
not  be  much  unlike  him  who  prays  when 


INTR  OB  UCTIOK  9 

his  watch,  and  not  when  his  heart,  tells 
him  the  time.  Christians  are  to  remem- 
ber that  they  are  children  of  liberty. 
They  are  not  bound  up,  as  the  Jews 
were,  to  times  and  seasons,  to  places  and 
methods.  Prayer  may  become  a  yoke 
of  superstition,  instead  of  the  wings  of 
liberty. 

It  ma}^  be  briefly  said,  take  notice  of  the 
times  when  prayer  is  refreshing.  Learn 
from  your  own  experience  how  and  when 
praj^er  is  best  for  you.  You  are  under 
bonds  to  no  man,  be  he  minister  or  lay- 
man. 

We  think  that  one  may  very  much  aid 
himself,  by  taking  a  few  moments  of  his 
brightest  hours  for  silent  prayer.  The 
Jews  were  taught  to  present  their  best 
fruits  for  offerings.  We  should  not 
choose  refuse  hours,  good  for  nothing 
else,  to  pray  in.  No  matter  where  you 
are,  nor  what  you  are  doing,  send  a 
glance  God  ward  from  the  top  of  every 
exalted    hour  —  as    from    a    hill-top,    a 


1 0  INTR  OD  UCTIOK 

child,  going  home,  would  strive  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  his  father's  house.  In  this 
manner,  after  a  little,  the  soul  would  lay 
up  remembrances  of  many  sweet  and 
noble  experiences,  and  would  fight  dis- 
couragements by  hope  drawn  from  past 
success. 

We  suspect  that  many  persons  mar 
this  enjoyment  by  very  erroneous  ideas 
of  quantity.  They  read  of  eminent 
Christians  who  pray  by  the  hour,  they 
hear  sermons  upon  the  wrestling  of  Jacob 
with  the  angel,  and,  above  all,  they  are 
told  that  Christ  prayed  all  niglit.  They, 
therefore,  attempt  immense  prayer.  Of 
course,  they  fail.  A  man  might  as  well 
attempt  to  imitate  the  old  prophets  ^who 
ate  in  preparation  of  forty  days'  fast.  If 
a  man  is  moved  to  pray  only  five  min- 
utes, it  is  bis  duty  to  stop  there.  If  he  is 
moved  to  pray  an  hour,  he  is  at  liberty  to 
do  so.  But  in  every  case  prayer  is  to  be 
regulated  by  your  own  inward  want,  and 
not  from  the  outside  by  somebody's  ex- 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

ample.  Indeed,  we  meet  every  day  witli 
persons  who  would  be  injured  b}^  long- 
praying.  Tliey  have  but  little  to  say. 
If  Christ  were  on  earth,  and  they  were 
disciples,  they  would  listen  rather  than 
speak.  There  is  communion  by  think- 
ing as  well  as  speaking.  There  is  unut- 
tered  prayer  as  well  as  vocal.  Thoughts 
that  roll  silently  are  more  significant, 
often,  than  those  which  can  clothe  them- 
selves in  words.  It  is  possible  to  pray 
too  much.  That  is  always  too  much 
which  is  beyond  your  real  want  or  de- 
sire. 

Christians  bring  themselves  into  trou- 
ble by  very  false  ideas  of  prayer.  They 
select  impassioned  prayers  as  models,  and 
judge  themselves  to  be  praying  in  pro- 
portion as  they  approach  these  examples. 
But  what  if  your  wants  are  few,  your 
feelings  tranquil,  your  thoughts  simple, 
and  your  whole  mind  and  exiDerience 
formed  upon  a  diflPerent  basis  ?  Is  pray- 
er some  objective  exercise  to  be  copied  ? 


12  introduction: 

or  is  it  the  presenting  before  Grod  of  just 
wliat  you  think,  feel,  or  need  ? 

One  single  sentence  is  a  sufficient  praj^- 
er.  There  is  no  one  who  can  not  com- 
mand his  thouo-hts  lonsj  enou2:h  for  that. 
If  your  thoughts  wander,  the  probability 
is  that  you  are  trying  to  pray  too  much. 
Be  shorter.  Say  just  as  much  as  there  is 
in  you  to  say.  If  there  is  nothing,  say 
nothing ;  if  little,  say  little ;  silence  is  bet- 
ter than  mockery.  Consider  the  Lord's 
Prayer  —  how  short,  how  simjole  !  It 
contains  the  whole  world's  want,  and  yet 
a  little  child  can  use  it. 

Accept  prayer  as  liberty,  and  not  a 
bondage.  Use  it  in  any  manner  that 
will  be  of  profit.  Go  often  and  tarr}^ 
but  a  little,  or  go  and  tarry  all  night,  if 
you  will,  upon  the  mount.  You  pray,  if 
there  is  but  one  sentence — Grod  be  mer- 
ciful to  me  a  sinner — 'just  as  freely  as  if 
there  were  a  thousand  besides. 


*'  Lord,  what  a  change  within  us  one  short  hour 
Spent  in  Thy  presence  will  prevail  to  make, 
What  heavy  burdens  from  our  bosoms  take, 
What  parched  grounds  refresh,  as  with  a  shower  ! 
We  kneel,  and  all  around  us  seems  to  lower  ; 
We  rise,  and  all  the  distant  and  the  near, 
Stands  forth  in  sunny  outline,  brave  and  clear ; 
We  kneel,  how  weak  ! — we  rise,  how  full  of  power  ! 
Why,  therefore,  should  we  do  ourselves  this  wrong. 
Or  others — that  we  are  not  always  strong, 
That  we  are  ever  overborne  with  care. 
That  we  should  ever  weak  or  heartless  be, 
Anxious  or  troubled,  when  with  us  is  prayer, 
And  joy,  and  strength,  and  courage  are  with  Thee  ?"' 

The  Dean  of  Westminster. 


"  What  wondrous  grace  !  who  knows  its  full  extent  ? 
A  creature,  dust  and  ashes,  speaks  with  God- 
Tells  all  his  woes — enumerates  his  wants — 
Yea,  pleads  with  Deity,  and  gains  relief. 
'Tis  prayer,  yes,  'tis  '  efifectual,  fervent  praj-er,' 
Puts  dignity  on  worms — proves  life  divine — 
Makes  demons  tremble— breaks  the  darkest  cloud, 
And  with  a  princely  power  prevails  with  God  I 
And  shall  this  privilege  become  a  task  ? 
My  God,  forbid  !  pour  out  Thy  Spirit's  grace, 
Draw  me  by  love,  and  teach  me  how  to  pray. 
Yea,  let  Thy  holy  unction  from  above, 
Beget,  extend,  maintain  my  intercourse. 
With  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  Israel's  God, 
Until  petitions  are  exchanged  for  praise." 

Irons, 


(But   jFat^cr. 


Gal.  iv.  6. 
"  And  because  ye  are  sons,  God  hath  sent  forth  the  Spirit  of 
his  Son  into  your  hearts,  crying,  Abba,  Father." 

:\lATT.  vi.  6-13. 
'*  AVhen  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet ;  and  when  thou 
hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret ; 
and  thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  thee 
openly.     But  when  ye  pray,  use  not  vain  repetitions,  as 
the  heathen  do  :  for  they  think  that  they  shall  be  heard  for 
their  much  speaking.     Be  not  ye  therefore  like  unto  them  : 
for  your  Father  knoweth  what  things  ye  have  need  of  before 
3'e  ask  him.    After  this  manner  therefore  pray  ye  : 
Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven, 
Hallowed  be  thy  name. 
Thy  kingdom  come. 
Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven. 
Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread. 
And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors. 
.\nd  lead  us  not  into  temptation ;    but  deliver  us  from  evil : 
For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
Forever.     Amen." 

Ps.  ciii.  13. 

"  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  theiu 

that  fear  him." 


'  Our  God,  our  Father,  with  us  stay, 
And  make  us  keep  Thy  narrow  way  ; 
Free  us  from  sin  and  all  its  power  ; 
Give  us  ajoyful  dying  hour  ; 
DeUver  us  from  Satan's  arts, 
And  let  us  build  our  hopes  on  Thee, 
Down  in  our  very  heart  of  hearts  ! 
O  God  !  may  we  true  servants  be, 
And  serve  Thee  ever  perfectly. 
Help  us,  with  all  Thy  children  here, 
To  fight  and  flee  with  holy  fear  ; 
Flee  from  temptation,  and  to  fight 
"With  Thine  own  weapons  for  the  right ; 
Amen,  Amen,  so  let  it  be  ! 
So  shall  we  ever  sing  to  Thee, 

Hallelujah  !" 

Martin  Luthkr. 


"  Now  thank  we  all  our  God, 

With  heart  and  hands  and  voicfcs, 
Who  wondrous  tilings  hath  done, 

In  whom  His  world  rejoices  ; 
Who  from  our  mother's  arms 

Hath  blessed  us  on  our  way 
With  countless  gifts  of  love. 

And  stilNs  ours  to-day. 

**  Oh  may  this  bounteous  God 

Through  all  our  life  be  near  us, 
With  ever-joyful  hearts 

And  blessed  peace  to  cheer  us  ; 
And  keep  us  in  His  grace, 

And  guide  us  when  perplexed, 
And  free  us  from  all  ills 

In  tills  world  and  the  next. 

*'  All  praise  and  thanks  to  God 

The  Father  now  be  given, 
The  Son,  and  Him  who  reigns 

With  them  in  highest  heaven ; 
The  one  Eternal  God, 

Whom  earth  and  heaven  adore  ; 
For  thus  it  was,  is  now, 

And  shall  be  evermore  !" 


''(Bnv  JFatfjcr/' 


TN  a  true  Christian's  devout  aspirations, 
^  it  is  not  from  instruction  or  liabit,  but 
from  spontaneous  impulse,  that  he  ex- 
claims, "  Our  Father!"'  His  thoughts  go 
out  after  God.  His  heart  yearns  for  Him. 
His  soul  longs,  with  unutterable  longings, 
for  His  abiding  presence.  He  comes  with, 
a  truly  filial  spirit  before  God,  and  it  is 
perfectly  easy  and  natural  for  him  to  say, 
"  Our  Father."  And  he  has  a  right  to 
say  it.  He  is  the  child  of  God,  and  he 
knows  it;  for  "the  Spirit  itself  beareth 
witness  with  our  spirits  that  we  are  the 
children  of  God."  Being  the  child  of 
his  Father,  and  away  from  his  Father  s 
house,  he  yearns  for  it,  and  at  times  is 
homesick — as  children  that  are  kept  at 
school  away  from  their  parents  long  for 


18  ''OUR  father:' 

the  day  of  vacation,  that  they  may  go 
home ;  and  these  yearnings  are  the  testi- 
mony of  the  Spirit  that  we  are  the  child- 
ren of  God.  The  man  who  has  these 
feehngs,  and  has  them  habitually,  need 
not  hesitate  to  call  himself  a  child  of 
God,  or  to  address  God  as  "Our  Father." 
There  are  some  Christians  who  always 
seem  to  .have  entire  and  unwavering  faith 
in  God  as  their  Father.  They  trust  in 
Him  to  such  a  degree  as  to  beheve  that 
whatever  may  be  the  happenings  of  Prov- 
idence, everything  will  be  for  the  best, 
and  that  they  will  be  taken  care  of,  and 
never  left  alone.  They  are  confident  in 
Him,  and  seem  never  for  a  moment  to 
doubt.  Their  cup  always  rans  over,  be- 
cause they  always  think  it  runs  over. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  others 
who,  while  they  are  blessed  abundantly, 
never  see  or  think  that  they  are  blessed 
at  all.  And  this  class  comprises  the  mul- 
titude of  men.  They  call  God  ''  Our 
Father,"  only  because  the  Lord's  Prayer 


''OUR  FATHERr  19 

begins  so,  and  not  because  their  own 
prayer  naturally  and  spontaneously  con- 
fesses that  they  are  His  children,  and  that 
He  is  their  Father.  They  have  doubts 
and  glooms.  They  have  fightings  with- 
out, and  fears  within.  They  allow  small 
things  to  perplex  them,  and  great  things 
to  overwhelm  them.  They  distrust  God 
—  not  intentionally,  but  really.  They 
doubt  His  providence,  though  they  would 
hardly  believe  that  they  doubt.  They 
habitually  look  on  the  dark  side  of 
things,  and  excuse  themselves  for  it  by 
saying  that  they  are  constitutionally  mel- 
ancholy ;  whereas  the  fault  is  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  practical  want  of 
faith.  It  is  an  unconscious  scepticism  of 
God.  Men  theoretically  extol  their  faith, 
but  practically  deny  it.  They  give  way 
before  every  trouble,  instead  of  conquer- 
ing it ;  and  in  every  dark  hour  flee  for 
refuge,  not  to  God,  but  to  themselves. 

Now,   all   Christians,  whether  hopeful 
or  despondent,   are  sometimes    like   the 


20  ''OUR  father:' 

disciples  on  tlie  Sea  of  Galilee  —  driven 
hither  and  thither  by  contrary  winds. 
They  toil  all  the  night  upon  the  deep, 
casting  their  nets,  bnt  taking  nothing. 
Kay,  oftentimes,  their  sea  is  without  a 
Christ  walking  upon  the  water,  and  their 
ship  without  a  Christ  even  asleep.  Yet 
when  they  desire  His  coming  upon  the 
sea,  and  cry  out  to  Him,  they  soon  see 
Him  walking  to  them  over  the  waves. 
When  they  desire  His  awakening  in  the 
ship,  they  soon  see  Him  rising  to  rebuke 
the  wind,  saying,  "Peace,  be  still,"  until 
there  is  a  great  calm.  God  hides  his  face 
only  to  disclose  it  again  ;  and  His  hidings 
are  oftentimes  as  full  of  mercy  as  His 
manifested  presence.  But  whether  to 
their  feeble-sighted  eyes  He  is  present  or 
absent,  they  may  always  know  that  '^  He 
is  not  far  from  them  at  any  time."  When 
there  are  clouds  so  that  they  can  not  see 
Him,  they  may  look  at  Him  througli 
faith,  and  discern  that  He  is  not  far  off. 
And  as  they  that  go  down  upon  the  deep, 


''OUR  father:'  21 

and  are  overmastered  by  storms  in  the 
darkness  of  tlie  night,  knowing  not  on 
what  strange  shores  they  may  be  thrown, 
cast  anchor  and  wait  for  day,  so  in  the 
midst  of  trial  and  temptation,  when  the 
storm  is  fierce  and  the  night  is  dark, 
when  the  lights  are  quenched  and  the 
signals  gone,  they  may  at  least  cast  an- 
chor ;  and  if  they  wait  in  faith  and  hope 
for  the  ■  day,  it  will  snrely  dawn.  The 
darkness  will  always  hide  itself,  and  the 
light  appear.  There  never  was  a  night  so 
long  that  the  day  did  not  overtake  it. 
There  never  was  a  morning  without  its 
morning  star.  There  never  was  a  day 
without  its  sun. 

God  can  reveal  himself  to  His  own 
people  as  He  does  not  to  the  world.  He 
can  give  to  every  Christian  heart,  to  the 
timid  as  well  as  to  the  strong,  to  the 
sorrowing  as  well  as  to  the  hopeful, 
those  divine  intimations,  those  precious 
thoughts,  those  sweet-breathed  feelings, 
which  are  evidence  that  His  Spirit  dwell- 


22  ''OUR  father:' 

etli  in  them.  He  can  inspire  the  heart 
with  that  perfect  love  which  casteth  out 
fear.  He  can  take  away  all  doubts  and 
misgivings,  all  gloomy  misapprehensions, 
all  dreary  forebodings  of  the  future.  He 
can  make  sunshine  out  of  shadow,  and 
day  out  of  midnight.  When  our  fears 
have  been  like  growing  thorns  in  our 
side.  He  can  pluck  away  the  thorns,  and 
heal  the  wounds ;  and  He  can  turn  every 
spear  which  has  pierced  us  into  a  rod  and 
staff,  which,  instead  of  wounding,  shall 
support  us  ;  so  that  the  very  things  which 
once  cast  us  down  may  be  made  to  hold 
us  up.  He  can  so  deal  with  us  as  to 
make  every  yoke  easy  and  every  burden 
light ;  so  that  the  heavy  laden  may  come 
to  Him  to  be  relieved  of  their  loads.  He 
can  touch  the  fountains  of  our  sorrow, 
and  make  our  tears  like  gems  and  crj^s- 
tals,  more  precious  than  pearls  or  dia- 
monds. Our  tears  are  oftentimes  among 
His  most  precious  treasures.  The  things 
that  we  call  treasures  He  counts  as  of 


''OUR  father:'  23 

very  little  worth.  The  human  soul  is 
His  treasury,  out  of  which  He  coins  un- 
speakable riches.  Thoughts  and  feelings, 
desires  and  yearnings,  faith  and  hope — 
these  are  the  most  precious  things  which 
Grod  iinds  in  us. 

He  can  do  all  things  for  us,  whatsoever 
we  need,  and  more  than  we  need.  We 
are  too  slow  to  believe  in  His  generosity. 
We  do  not  often  enough  think  that  as  He 
has  infinite  desires  to  help  us,  so  also  He 
has  infinite  powers.  He  is  able  to  carry 
out  all  that  He  can  ever  wish  for  us. 
God  is  not  like  man.  Our  means  are 
limited.  With  us,  wishing  to  possess  is 
far  from  possessing ;  wishing  to  do  is  fl^r 
from  doing;  but  with  Him,  the  wish  and 
the  power  are  one.  His  desires  are  fully 
equalled  by  His  means.  He  is  "  able  to 
do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that 
we  can  ask  or  think."  Things  that  are 
great  to  us  are  small  to  Him.  The  fa- 
vours that  we  ask  of  Him  seem  to  us  to 
be  large  and  royal ;  yet  to  Him  they  are 


24  ''OUR  FATHERS 

very  little  things.  The  gifts  He  has 
power  to  bestow  are  not  only  greater 
than  we  ever  ask,  but  ever  can  ask,  or 
even  think. 

He  is  always  willing  to  give  special 
grace  for  special  emergency.  If  men  are 
suddenly  brought  into  trouble.  He  is  "a 
very  present  help  in  time  of  need." 
When  rich  men,  by  some  unexpected  re- 
verse of  fortune,  are  made  poor,  He  can 
sustain  them  under  their  burdens,  when 
without  Him  they  would  be  utterly 
crushed.  When  friends  are  parted  from 
friends,  when  families  are  broken  and 
scattered  by  death,  when  the  mother  loses 
her  child,  and  weeps  because  the  cradle 
is  no  longer  to  be  rocked,  and  the  sweet 
laugh  is  hushed  in  the  house,  God  can 
give  "the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning.'' 
Whenever  His  children  suffer  disappoint- 
ment, when  clouds  cast  shadows  over 
their  path,  when  troubles  brood  heavily 
before  them,  when  they  are  in  trials  of 
business  or  in  greater  trials  of  bereave- 


''OUR  FATHERr  25 

ment,  He  can  take  oft  tlie  heavy  weiglits. 
He  can  make  tlie  rougli  places  smooth, 
and  the  crooked  ^YaYS  straight.  When 
sorrow  comes  that  seems  to  forbid  all 
consolation,  He  can  gently  wipe  away  the 
tears,  and  bring  back  joy  and  hope  once 
more. 

He  is  a  physician  who  only  waits  to 
be  called ;  He  is  a  friend  who  longs  to  be 
trusted  ;  He  is  a  helper  who  only  wants 
US  to  ask  His  aid.  But  He  wants  us  to 
ask  Him  heartily  and  truthfully.  He 
wishes  us  to  reach  up  our  hand,  and  take 
covenant  by  His  hand.  He  desires  us  to 
cast  our  care  upon  Him,  for  He  careth 
for  us.  He  commands  us  to  confide  en- 
tirely in  Him.  He  wants  us  to  have  no 
liesitancy  in  our  faith. 

And  this  is  reasonable.  It  is  what 
men  ask  every  day  of  their  own  child- 
ren. A  father  expects  his  child  to  con- 
fide in  him.  A  child  expects  to  trust 
freely  in  his  father.  And  we  ought  to 
go  to  God,  being  His  children,  with  less 


26  ''OUR  FATHER." 

distrust  and  more  confidence.  We  ought 
to  take  Him  at  His  word,  and  to  have 
faith  in  His  promises.  If  He  has  said, 
"  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake 
thee,"  we  ought  boldly  to  say,  "The 
Lord  is  my  helper  ;  I  will  not  fear  what 
man  shall  do  unto  me." 

But  when  we  borrow  trouble,  and  look 
forward  into  the  future  to  see  what 
storms  are  coming,  and  distress  ourselves 
before  they  come  as  to  how  we  shall 
avert  them  if  they  ever  do  come,  we  lose 
our  proper  trustfulness  in  God.  When 
we  torment  ourselves  with  imaginary 
dangers,  or  trials,  or  reverses,  we  have 
already  parted  with  that  perfect  love 
which  casteth  out  fear.  Mothers  some- 
times fret  themselves,  and  are  made  mis- 
erable about  the  future  career  of  their 
children  —  whether  they  will  turn  out 
drunkards  or  not,  whether  they  will  go 
to  the  gallows  or  not,  whether  they  will 
be  a  disgrace  to  their  parentage  or  not. 
Now,  all  this  is  simply  an  evidence  of  a 


''OUR  father:'  27 

lack  of  faith.  There  are  many  persons 
in  good  health,  with  all  their  faculties  in 
active  exercise,  who,  having  nothing  else 
to  worry  about,  rob  themselves  of  sleep 
at  night  by  thinking,  ''  if  they  should 
suddenly  be  taken  awa}^,  what  would  be- 
come of  their  families,  and  who  would 
take  care  of  their  children  ?"  Such  dis- 
trust of  God  is  dishonourable  to  Cliristian 
men ;  and  it  is  only  because  of  His  ex- 
ceeding patience  —  which  is  the  most 
wonderful  attribute  of  the  Divine  nature 
— that  He  does  not  signally  rebuke  and 
punish  it  whenever  it  is  manifested. 
When  persons  are  taken  sick,  they  ought 
to  bear  it  with  a  good  grace ;  but  nine 
out  of  ten,  even  among  Christian  men, 
repine  and  murmur. 

When  they  are  visited  with  any  trou- 
ble, their  first  thought  is  apt  to  be,  "  How 
grievously  I  am  afflicted !"  though  the 
nobler  thought  would  be,  "How  gra- 
ciously I  am  sustained !"  When  a  cross 
is  laid  upon  them,  they  cry  out,  "  What  a 


28  ''OUR  father:] 

burden  I  have  to  carry !"  wliereas  they 
might  better  say,  "What  a  burden  Christ 
carries  for  me!"  A  Christian  sailor,  who 
lost  one  of  his  legs  in  the  battle  of  Tra- 
falgar, said  that  he  could  very  often 
measure  the  faith  of  the  people  who  con- 
versed with  him  by  the  way  in  which 
they  alluded  to  his  misfortune.  Nine 
out  of  every  ten  would  exclaim,  "  What 
a  pity  that  you  lost  your  leg?"  and  only 
one  in  ten,  "What  a  blessing  that  the 
other  was  preserved !"  When  God  comes 
into  the  family  and  takes  away  one  child, 
instead  of  complaining  because  He  has 
taken  one,  it  would  be  wiser  to  thank 
Him  that  He  has  left  the  rest.  Or  He 
may  crush  a  man's  business,  and  strip 
him  of  all  his  worldly  wealth,  and  yet 
leave  untouched  and  uninvaded  what  is 
dearer  than  all — the  cradle  of  his  only 
child.  Would  it  not  be  nobler  for  such 
a  man  to  be  thankful  for  what  God  left 
than  to  murmur  for  what  He  took  away  ? 
"  The  Lord  givcth,  and  the  Lord  taketh 


^'OXm  FATREUr  29 

away,"  but  He  always  gives  more  than 
He  takes  away.  If  God  robs  a  man  of 
bis  riches,  He  leaves  bim  bis  bealtb, 
wbicb  is  better  than  ricbes.  If  He  takes 
bealtb,  He  leaves  wealth.  If  He  takes 
both,  He  leaves  friends.  And  if  He 
takes  all  these — house,  and  home,  and 
worldly  goods  —  God's  providence  is  not 
yet  exhausted,  and  He  can  make  bless- 
ings out  of  other  things  which  remain. 
He  never  strips  a  man  entirely  bare.  A 
man  may  be  left  a  beggar  upon  the  high- 
way, and  yet  be  able  to  give  unceasing 
testimony  to  God's  goodness  and  grace. 
If  men  were  to  give  thanks  to  God  for 
what  He  permits  them  to  have,  rather 
than  to  utter  complaints  for  what  He 
wisely  and  graciously  withholds.  He 
might  not  unlikely  give  to  them  more 
abundantly,  if  for  no  other  reason  than 
to  increase  their  gratitude.  An  old  man, 
who  is  now  without  home  or  friends,  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  who  earns  a 
scanty  crust  of  bread,  day  by  day,  by 


30  ''OUR  FATEERr 

selling  steel-pens  and  writing-paper  from 
street  to  street,  said  the  other  day,  that 
though  he  had  several  times  been  so  re- 
duced as  to  be  for  a  period  of  forty-eight 
hours  and  longer  without  a  morsel  to  eat, 
he  never  lost  his  trust  in  Providence,  and 
always  rebuked  himself  whenever  he 
complained  at  his  lot !  This  man's  faith 
was  genuine  I  He  was  a  hero  in  rags, 
greater  than  many  a  hero  in  armour ! 

God's  goodness  is  large  and  generous  ; 
only  our  faith  in  it  is  small  and  mean. 
He  carries  the  whole  globe  in  His 
thoughtful  providence,  easier  than  a 
mother  carries  a  babe  in  her  arms.  If 
we  cannot  see  the  end  from  the  begin- 
ning, what  matters  it  so  long  as  He  sees 
it?  What  have  we  to  do  but  to  seek 
first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  right- 
eousness, and  leave  the  rest  in  faith  to 
Him? 

We  ought  not  to  forget  that  an  affec- 
tionate, confiding,  tender  faith,  habitu- 
ally exercised,  would  save  us  half  the  an- 


''OUR  father:'  31 

noyances  of  life,  for  it  would  lift  us  up 
above  the  reacli  of  them.  If  an  eagle  were 
to  fly  low  along  the  ground,  every  man 
might  aim  a  dart  at  it,  but  when  it  soars 
into  the  clouds,  it  is  above  every  arrow's 
reach.  And  they  that  trust  in  God 
"shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles; 
they  shall  run  and  not  be  weary ;  and 
they  shall  walk  and  not  faint."  Christ's 
invitation  is — "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you, 
and  learn  of  me;  for  I  am  meek  and 
lowly  in  heart;  and  ye  shall  find  rest 
unto  your  soul.  For  my  yoke  is  easy, 
and  my  burden  is  light.'' 


(H^o^i'n  rrntrtr  JHctrcs. 


Ps.  ciii.  S-10. 
'  The  Lord  is  merciful  and  gi-acious,  slow  to  anger,  and  plente- 
ous in  mercy.     He  will  not  always  chide  ;  neither  will  he 
keep  his  anger  for  ever.     He  hath  not  dealt  with  us  after 
our  sins,  nor  rewarded  us  according  to  our  iniquities." 

Ps.  xxxvi.  7-9. 
'•  IIow  excellent  is  thy  loving-kindness,  0  God  !  therefore  the 
children  of  men  put  their  trust  under  the  shadow  of  thy 
wings.  They  shall  be  abundantly  satisfied  with  the  fatness 
of  thy  house^;  and  thou  shalt  make  them  drink  of  the  river 
of  thy  pleasures.  For  with  thee  is  the  fountain  of  life  :  in 
thy  light  shall  we  see  light." 

Ps.  xxiii. 

•  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not  want.  He  maketli  n.e 
to  lie  down  in  green  pastures  :  he  leadeth  me  beside  the  still 
waters.  He  restoreth  my  soul :  he  leadeth  me  in  the  patlis 
of  righteousness  for  his  name's  sake.  Yea,  though  I  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no 
evil :  for  thou  art  with  me ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  com- 
fort me.  Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  presence 
of  mine  enemies  :  thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil ;  my  cuji 
runneth  over.  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me 
all  the  days  of  my  life  ;  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  for  ever." 

Ps.  Lxxxvi.  5,  6. 

'  For  thou.  Lord,  art  good,  and  ready  to  forgive ;  and  plenteous 
in  mercy  unto  all  them  that  call  upon  thee.  Give  ear,  0 
Lord,  unto  my  prayer ;  and  attend.to  the  voice  of  my  sup- 
plications." 

MiCAH  vii.  IS,  19. 

■'"Who  is  a  God  like  unto  thee,  that  pardoneth  inUiuity,  and 
passeth  by  the  transgression  of  the  remnant  of  his  heritage':' 
he  retaineth  not  his  anger  for  ever,  because  he  delighteth  )n 
me^CJ^  He  will  turn  again,  he  will  have  compassion  upon 
us  ;  he  will  subdue  our  iniquities  :  and  thou  wilt  cas*  »U  their 
sins  into  the  depths  of  the  sea." 


•*  What  a  gracious  God  have  we ! 
In  His  gifts  of  grace  how  free  ! 
How  intent  our  prayers  to  hear, 
And  to  them  that  pray  how  near  t 
How  to  balmy  mercy  prone, 
And  to  kind  compassion  ! 
How  regardfully  He  wakes 
For  His  chosen  servants'  sakes  ! 
How  He  gives  them  grace  to  pray, 
And  then  to  their  suits  give  way  ! 
How  He  prompts  each  good  desire. 
And  blows  up  that  spark  to  fire. 
He  hath  set  no  greater  task 
To  obtain  of  Him  but  '  Ask.' 
No  e.xacter  search  to  find, 
But  to  seek  with  humble  mind ; 
No  more  pains  heaven  to  unlock, 
But  with  spotless  hand  to  knock — 
Yet  he  joys  to  see  man  press  Him, 
And  to  wrestle  till  He  bless  him." 


"  Preserve,  0  Lord  !  within  our  hearts 
The  memory  of  Thy  favour, 
That  else  insensibly  departs. 
And  loses  its  sweet  savour  ! 
Lodge  it  within  ug  !    As  the  power  of  light 
Lives  inexhaustibly  in  precious  gems 
Fixed  on  the  front  of  eastern  diadems, 
go  shine  our  thankfulness  for  ever  bright." 

WoRDSwoaxa 


Jcf     /cM      M        W.     ^3V     lJ3^     ^3^ 

<K5ioti'H  CnttJcr  plertg. 


TTOW  strange  it  seems  to  fall  upon 
-'-'-  those  wonderful  lyrics  in  tlie  psalms 
of  David,  singing  to  us  out  of  tlie  rude 
ages  of  tlie  past,  where  we  naturally  ex- 
pect liarshness  and.  severity  !  How  won- 
derful that  our  age  should  go  back  to  this 
old  warrior  to  learn  tenderness ! — that  the 
most  exquisite  views  of  Divine  compas- 
sion should  spring  forth  from  the  world's 
untrained  periods,  from  Moses,  the  shep- 
herd and  legislator  of  the  desert,  and 
from  David,  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel, 
whose  hand  was  mightiest  among  the 
mighty,  whether  laid  upon  the  strings  of 
the  bow  or  of  the  harp ! 

Xoble  old  warrior  !  Thou  didst  send 
dismay  to  thine  enemies,  and  breathe  joy 
among  thy  friends.     Thy  bow  abode  in 


36  GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY. 

strength,  and  thine  arrows  were  terrible 
in  the  day  of  battle.  But  those  silver 
shafts  of  song,  from  a  lyre  surpassing  the 
fabled  sweetness  of  Apollo's,  have  sped 
through  the  dusky  years,  through  thou- 
sands of  them,  and  are  flying  yet ;  not 
for  wounding,  but  for  life  and  healing. 

If  we  remember  the  times  of  David, 
we  shall  be  no  less  surprised  at  the  ripe- 
ness of  the  views  of  God  which  he  gives, 
their  symmetry  and  all-sidedness,  gentle 
without  moral  weakness,  and  strong  with- 
out harshness ;  building  up  the  Divine 
glory  in  justice  and  truth,  and  walling 
it  about  with  majesty  and  stability.  But 
then,  as  in  a  garden  enclosed  with  mighty 
walls,  O  Psalmist,  thou  didst  cover  the 
bosom  of  God  with  flowers  and  fruits, 
and  make  the  thought  of  Ilim  sweeter 
to  the  fainting  soul  than  all  the  breath 
of  flowers  or  sound  of  cooling  waters ! 

As  but  a  few  years  intervened  between 
the  era  of  David  and  of  Homer — not  the 
measure  of  a  man's  lifetime — it  is  inter- 


GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY.  37 

esting  to  observe  the  views  whicli  they 
held,  synchronously,  of  the  character  of 
God.  While  David  was  filling  Jerusalem 
with  these  matchless  lyrics.  Homer,  the 
blind  wanderer  of  Grreece,  whom  the 
world  has  since  made  a  universal  citi- 
zen, was  singing  of  the  Grecian  gods. 
If  any  one  would  know  the  glory  of  the 
Hebrew  bard,  let  him  contrast  the  Psalms 
of  David  with  Homeric  representations 
of  God.  How  could  Greece  be  so  dark 
when  such  a  star  shone  over  Mount 
Zion  ?  How  could  Olympus  be  so  mean 
while  Sinai  flamed  with  such  o'randeur  ? 
Living  in  the  same  day,  a  thousand  years 
of  religion  divided  them.  Our  hearts  de- 
cide in  a  moment  which  was  the  true 
prophet,  and  the  teacher  of  the  true  God. 

Let  us  select  from.  David's  chants  but 
the  single  strain  —  God's  Tender  Mercy. 

Pity  is  a  mode  or  particular  develop- 
ment of  benevolence.  It  is  sympathy 
for  persons  on  account  of  weakness  or 
suffering.      It  is  not  mere   compassion, 


38  GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY. 

but  is  mingled  with  a  desire  to  aid  and 
relieve.  Pitj  and  compassion  are  the 
antitheses  of  those  affections  by  which 
we  take  hold  of  men  who  are  good, 
lovely,  desirable  for  their  grace  of  noble- 
ness and  purity  ;  or  of  those  who  are  pros- 
perous, strong,  and  happy.  For  such,  to 
be  sure,  we  have  a  lively  sympathy,  but 
it  is  of  a  different  sort.  God  has  gladness 
for  those  who  are  glad,  and  pity  for  those 
who  are  sad. 

The  pity  of  Grod,  as  disclosed  in  this 
psalm,  is  the  working  out  of  the  whole 
Divine  nature  of  goodness  toward  the 
human  family,  in  their  unformed,  imma- 
ture, sinful,  struggling  existence.  The 
race  was  not  born  perfect — men  were 
sown  as  seeds  are.  They  come  of  germs, 
turn  to  leaves,  shoot  forth  a  slender  stem^ 
grow  little  by  little  to  branches,  and  find 
firmness  and  solidity  only  after  a  long 
probation  of  weakness,  temptation,  sin, 
and  all  its  sorrows.  This  is  true  of  in- 
dividual men.     It  is  true  historically  of 


OOD'S  TENDER  MERCY.  39 

mankind.  The  need  of  compassion  for 
the  race  has  been  just  as  great  as  is  the 
need  in  every  household  of  compassion 
towards  babes  and  young  children.  It  is 
still  the  need  of  each  man  and  of  the 
whole  world. 

As  much  crime  as  there  is,  calling  for 
punishment  —  as  much  deliberate  wrong, 
to  be  met  by  deliberate  justice — as  much 
licence  as  there  is,  and  overflowing  pas- 
sion and  desolating  lust  —  there  is  even 
more  ignorance,  mistake,  sorrowful  weak- 
ness, and  unwitting  evil.  The  world 
wanders  like  a  half-grown  orphan,  call- 
ing for  aid  without  answer,  and  weeps 
for  trouble,  and  wanders  still,  stumbling 
through  ages.  And  though  it  needs  re- 
proof and  correction,  it  needs  kindness 
more.  Though  it  needs  the  grasp  of  the 
strong  hand,  it  needs,  too,  the  open  palm 
of  love  and  tenderness.  It  requires  pun- 
ishment ;  but  it  needs  pity  even  more 
than  avenging  justice. 

While,  therefore,  the  Divine  character 


40     GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY. 

drawn  in  the  Bible  hatli  great  depth  of 
shadow  in  justice,  all  its  salient  points 
stand  forth  in  the  high  lights  of  love  and 
mercy !  God  is  full  of  near,  real,  over- 
flowing, and  inexhaustible  compassion 
for  man  ! 

But  it  is  declared  that  God's  pity  is  not 
simply  pity — it  is  a  father^ s  pity. 

If  a  man  be  found  weltering  by  the 
road,  wounded,  and  a  stranger  comes  who 
never  before  had  even  seen  him,  he  will 
pity  him.  No  matter  if  born  under  a 
different  heaven,  or  speaking  a  different 
tongue,  or  worshipping  at  a  different 
altar,  he  pities  him;  for  the  heart  of 
man  speaks  one  language  the  world  over, 
and  suffering  wakes  compassion. 

But  if,  instead  of  being  a  stranger,  it 
were  a  near  neighbour,  how  much  more 
and  more  tender  the  pity,  as  he  ran  to 
his  help !  But  if,  instead  of  one  who 
stood  only  in  the  of&ces  of  general  and 
neia:hbourhood  kindness,  it  were  a  strong; 
personal  friend — yea,   a  brother  —  how 


GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY.  41 

much  more  intense  would  be  the  throb- 
bing emotion  of  tenderness  and  ^\tj ! 

Bat  all  these  fade  away  before  the 
wild  outcry  of  the  man's  own  father, 
who  would  give  his  life  for  his  son,  and 
who  gives  pitj-,  now,  not  by  measure, 
but  with  such  a  volume  that  it  is  as  if  a 
soul  were  gushing  out  in  all  its  life ! 

But  the  noblest  heart  on  earth  is  but  a 
trickling  stream  from  a  faint  a,nd  wast- 
ing fountain,  compared  with  the  ineffable 
soul  and  heart  of  God,  the  everlasting 
Father !  The  pity  of  Grod  is  like  a  fa- 
ther's, in  all  that  is  tender,  strong,  and 
full,  but  not  in  scope  and  power.  For 
every  one  of  God's  feelings  moves  in  the 
sphere  of  the  infinite.  His  pity  has  all 
the  scope  and  divinity  which  belong  to 
power,  wisdom,  justice !  Yea,  jDOwer, 
wisdom,  and  justice  are  God's  lesser 
ways,  and  come  towards  that  side  of 
His  being  where  there  would  be  restric- 
tion, if  anywhere  ;  while  love  and  mercy 
are  God's  peculiar  glory.     In  these  He 


42  GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY. 

finds  the  most  glorious  liberty  of  tlie  Di- 
vine nature. 

Nothing  so  soon  wears  out  and  ex- 
hausts men  as  deep  feelings  and  strong 
sympathies,  especially  those  which  have 
in  them  an  element  of  pain,  as  |)ity  hath. 
Our  life  requires  to  be  broken  in  two 
each  day,  and  replanted,  that  it  may 
spring  up  again  from  sleep,  as  new  blos- 
soms out  of  soil.  "We  are  buried  every 
night  for  a  resurrection  of  each  morning; 
and  thus  our  life  is  not  a  continuous  line, 
unbroken,  but  a  series  of  lives  and 
deaths,  of  deaths  and  births. 

But  Grod,  in  His  almightiness,  asks  no 
rest  and  requires  no  slumber,  but  holds 
straight  on  without  weariness,  wearing 
out  the  ages.  Himself  unworn  ;  changing 
all  things.  Himself  without  variableness 
or  shadow  of  turning  1  God  is  like  the 
sun  at  noon,  that  casts  down  straight 
rays,  and  so  throws  down  the  shadows 
upon  the  ground  underneath  each  tree  ; 
but  He  never,  like  the  sun,  goes  west- 


GOD'S   TENDER  MERCY.  43 

ward  towards  his  setting,  turning  all 
shadows  from  under  the  trees,  and  slant- 
ing them  upon  the  ground.  Grod  stands 
in  eternal  fulness,  like  a  sun  that  knows 
neither  morning,  nor  evening,  nor  night, 
but  only  noon,  and  noon  always  ! 

God's  pity  abides,  even  as  He  abides, 
and  partakes  of  the  Divine  grandeur  and 
omnipotence.  There  is  a  whole  eternity 
in  it  for  substance  and  duration.  As  God 
himself  cannot  be  measured  with  lines  of 
latitude  and  longitude,  but  is  boundless, 
so  is  His  every  attribute.  His  pity  is  in- 
finite, moving  with  equal  step  to  all  the 
other  attributes  of  God,  and  holding  its 
course  and  path  as  far  forth  as  omni- 
science doth ;  it  paces  with  omnipresence 
along  the  circuits  of  infinity !  For  as 
heaven  is  high  above  the  earth,  so  great 
is  His  mercy  towards  them  that  fear  Him. 
As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far 
hath  He  removed  our  transgressions  from 
us! 

God's  pity  is  not  as  some  sweet  cordial, 


44  GO  US  TENDER  MEROY. 

poured  in  dainty  drops  from  a  golden 
phial.  It  is  not  like  tlie  musical  water- 
drops  of  some  slender  rill,  murmuring 
down  the  dark  sides  of  Mount  Sinai.  It 
is  wide  as  the  whole  cope  of  heaven.  It 
is  abundant  as  all  the  air.  If  one  had 
art  to  gather  up  all  the  golden  sunlight 
that  to-da}^  falls  wide  over  all  this  conti- 
nent— falling  through  every  silent  hour ; 
and  all  that  is  dispersed  over  the  whole 
ocean,  flashing  from  every  wave ;  and  all 
that  is  poured  refulgent  over  the  northern 
wastes  of  ice,  and  along  the  whole  conti- 
nent of  Europe,  and  the  vast  outlying- 
Asia,  and  torrid  Africa ;  if  one  could  in 
anywise  gather  up  this  immense  and  in- 
calculable ou.tflow  and  treasure  of  sun- 
light that  falls  down  through  the  bright 
hours,  and  runs  in  liquid  ether  about  the 
mountains,  and  fills  all  the  plains,  and 
sends  innumerable  rays  through  every 
secret  place,  pouring  over  and  filling 
every  flower,  shining  down  the  sides  of 
every  blade  of  grass,  resting  in  glorious 


GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY.  45 

humility  upon,  the  humblest  things  — on 
stick,    and   stone,    and   pebble;    on  the 
spider's   web,    the    sparrow's    nest,    the 
threshold    of    the    young    foxes'    hole, 
where  they  play  and  warm  themselves ; 
—  that  rests  on  the  prisoner's  window, 
that  strikes  radiant  beams  through  the 
slave's   tear,    that   puts   gold    upon   the 
widow's  weeds,  that  plates  and  roofs  the 
city  with  burnished  gold,  and  goes  on  in 
its  wild   abundance   up   and   down   the 
earth,  shining   everywhere  and   always, 
since  the  day  of  primal  creation,  without 
faltering,  without  stint,  without  waste  or 
diminution ;  as  full,  as  fresh,  as  overflow- 
ing to-day  as  if  it  were  the  very  first  day 
of  its  outplay  —  if  one  might  gather  up 
this  boundless,  endless,  infinite  treasure, 
to   measure   it,  then  might  he  tell   the 
height  and   depth,  and  unending  glory 
of  the  pity  of  God !     The  light,  and  the 
sun  its  source,  are  God's  own  figures  of 
the  immensity  and  copiousness  of  His 
mercy  and  compassion      (Ps.  Ixxxiv.  11. 
12  ;  Isa.  Iv.  6-13.) 


46  GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY. 

This  Divine  pity  applies  to  us  on  ac- 
count of  our  weakness.  God  looks  upon 
our  littleness,  as  compared  with  His  an- 
gels that  excel  in  strength,  much,  it  may 
be  supposed,  as  we  look  upon  little  child- 
ren as  compared  with  grown-up  men. 

Divine  pity  is  also  exercised  in  view 
of  our  sufferings,  both  of  body  and  of 
mind.  We  sometimes  fear  to  bring  our 
troubles  to  God,  because  they  must  seem 
so  small  to  Him  who  sitteth  on  the  circle 
of  the  earth.  But  if  they  are  large  enough 
to  vex  and  endanger  our  welfare,  they 
are  large  enough  to  touch  His  heart  of 
love.  For  love  does  not  measure  by  a 
merchant's  scales,  nor  with  a  surveyor's 
chain.  It  hath  a  delicacy  which  is  un- 
known in  any  handling  of  material  sub- 
stances. 

It  sometimes  seems  as  if  God  cared  for 
nothing.  The  wicked  are  at  ease.  The 
good  are  vexed  incessantly.  The  world 
is  full  of  misrule  and  confusion.  The 
darling  of  the  flock  is  always  made  the 


GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY.  47 

sacrifice.  Some  child  in  tlie  very  midst 
of  its  glee  becomes  suddenly  silent — as  a 
music-box,  its  spring  giving  way,  stops 
in  the  midst  of  its  strain,  and  never  plays 
out  tlie  melody.  The  mother  staggers, 
and  wanders  blindly  as  though  day  and 
night  were  mingled  into  one,  and  struck 
through  with  preternatural  influence  of 
woe.  But  think  not  that  God's  silence  is 
coldness  or  indifference !  When  Christ 
stood  by  the  dead,  the  silence  of  tears  in- 
terpreted His  sympathy  more  wonderfully 
than  even  that  voice  which  afterwards 
called  back  the  footsteps  of  the  brother 
from  the  grave,  and  planted  them  in  life 
again  1  When  birds  are  on  the  nest,  pre- 
paring to  bring  forth  life,  they  never 
sing.  God's  stillness  is  full  of  brooding. 
Kot  one  tear  shall  be  shed  by  you  that 
does  not  hang  heavier  at  His  heart  than 
any  world  upon  His  hand ! 

Be  not  impatient  of  God.  Your  sorrow 
is  a  seed  sown.  Shall  a  seed  come  up  in 
a  day,  or  come  up  all  in  blossom  when  it 


48  GOD'S  TENDER  MERCY. 

does  spring  ?  Let  God  plant  your  sor- 
rows, and  water  and  till  them  according 
to  His  own  husbandry.  By  and  by,  when 
you  gather  their  fruit,  it  will  be  time  to 
judge  His  mercy.  Now,  no  affliction 
"  for  the  present  seemeth.  to  be  joyous, 
but  grievous :  nevertheless  afterward  it 
yieldeth.  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteous- 
ness unto  them  which,  are  exercised  there- 
by." Trouble  is  like  any  other  crop.  It 
needs  time  for  growing,  for  blossoming, 
and  for  fruiting. 


**  Songs  of  glory  to  my  God 
In  the  desert  shall  be  heard ! 
There  is  comfort  in  Thy  rod, 

Power  in  Thy  reproving  word. 
In  a  spirit  all  Thine  own, 
Make  Thy  hardest  sayings  known. 
They  will  gird  me  with  Thy  strength. 
Bear  me  all  my  journey's  length  ; 
Give  me  for  the  daily  strife, 
Joy,  and  health,  and  plenteous  life. 
Hid  within  for  precious  fruit, 
Love  shall  take  eternal  root- 
Love  that  in  the  Spirit  lives ; 
Love  that  grows  by  all  it  gives. 
'Neath  a  rule  so  firm  to  bless, 
I  shall  learn  Thy  gentleness  ; 
Shew  it  forth  in  all  I  do- 
Making  others  feel  it  too." 

A.  L.  W. 


Kf^t  JXtanon  of  Uta^n*. 


Psalm  Ixxxix.  5-8. 
"  And  the  heavens  shall  praise  thy  wonders,  0  Lord :  thy  faith- 
fulness also  in  the  congregation  of  the  saints.  For  who  in 
the  heaven  can  be  compared  unto  the  Lord  ?  Who  among 
the  mighty  can  b6  compared  unto  the  Lord  ?  God  is  great- 
ly to  be  feared  in  the  assembly  of  the  saints,  and  to  be  had 
in  reverence  of  all  them  that  are  about  him.  0  Lord  God 
of  hosts,  who  is  a  strong  Lord  like  unto  thee  ?  or  to  thy 
faithfulness  round  about  thee  ?" 

Psalm  xlvi.  1-5. 
"  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble. 
Therefore  will  not  we  fear,  though  the  earth  be  removed, 
and  though  the  mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the 
sea ;  though  the  waters  thereof  roar  and  be  troubled,  though 
the  mountains  shake  with  the  swelling  thereof.  Selah. 
There  is  a  river,  the  streams  whereof  shall  make  glad  the 
city  of  God,  the  holy  place  of  the  tabernacles  of  the  Most 
High.  God  is  in  the  midst  of  her  ;  she  shall  not  be  moved : 
God  shall  help  her,  and  that  right  early." 

Daniel  ii.  20-22. 
"  Ble.ssed  be  the  name  of  God  for  ever  and  ever  :  for  wisdom 
and  might  are  his  :  and  he  changeth  the  times  and  the  sea- 
sons :  he  removeth  kings,  and  setteth  up  kings  :  he  giveth 
wisdom  unto  the  wise,  and  knowledge  to  them  that  know 
understanding :  he  revealeth  the  deep  and  secret  things  : 
he  knoweth  what  is  in  the  darkness,  and  the  light  dwelleth 
with  him." 

Isaiah  xxvi.  4. 

"  Trust  ye  in  the  Lord  for  ever :  for  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  ia 

everlasting  strength." 


"  God  of  my  life,  to  Thee  I  call ; 
Afflicted  at  Thy  feet  I  fall ; 
When  the  great  water-floods  prevail, 
Leave  not  my  trembling  heart  to  fail. 

*'  Friend  of  the  friendless  and  the  faint ! 
Where  should  I  lodge  my  deep  complaint  ? 
Where  but  with  Thee,  whose  open  door, 
Invites  the  helpless  and  the  poor  ! 

*'  Did  ever  mourner  plead  with  Thee 
And  Thou  refuse  that  mourner's  plea  ? 
Does  not  the  word  still  fixM  remain, 
That  none  shall  seek  Thy  face  in  vain  ? 

"  That  were  a  grief  I  could  not  bear, 
Didst  Thou  not  hear  and  answer  prayer ; 
But  a  prayer-hearing,  answering  God, 
Supports  me  under  every  load. 

*•  Fair  is  the  lot  that's  cast  for  me  ; 
I  have  an  advocate  with  Thee ; 
They  whom  the  world  caresses  most, 
Have  no  such  privilege  to  boast. 

**Poor  though  I  am,  despised,  forgot, 
Yet  God,  my  God,  forgets  me  not ; 
And  he  is  safe,  and  must  succeed, 
Foi  whom  the  Lord  vouchsafes  to  plead." 

COWPEO, 


m)t  ^tamn  of  J^rasrr. 


rpHE  human  mind  tends  to  pass  from 
i  one  extreme  of  truth  to  the  other. 
The  mind  of  communities  touches  both 
extremities  before  it  settles  down  at  the 
intermediate  point  of  truth.  There  is 
no  great  truth  which,  being  pressed  far 
enough  in  one  direction,  will  not  meet 
another  bearing  up  against  it  from  the 
opposite.  There  is,  for  instance,  the 
truth  of  man's  liberty;  press  it  far 
enough,  and  it  will  be  met  and  restrain- 
ed by  the  equal  truth  of  man's  depend- 
ence. The  truth  of  man's  individuality ; 
press  it  to  a  certain  distance,  and  it  will 
meet  another  trutb,  equally  certain  — 
man's  associated  life.  There  is  the  truth 
of  the  necessity  of  helping  men,  and' the 
other  truth,  just  as  important,  that  if  you 


54  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

help  them  you  will  destroy  them;  for 
there  is  nothing  worse  than  help  which 
impairs  the  disposition  of  men  to  help 
themselves,  and  nothing  so  bad  as  not  to 
help  them  when  they  need  help.  There 
is  also  the  doctrine  of  free  agency,  and 
the  counter-doctrine  of  dependence  upon 
God.  There  is  no  one  great  line  of 
thought  which,  being  pursued  at  length, 
does  not  meet  another  coming  from 
the  opposite  ;  and  a  man's  mind  should 
stand  at  the  centre  of  the  wheel,  and  all 
truths  should  come  to  it  from  every  side 
as  the  spokes  of  one  great  wheel. 

It  is  on  this  account  that  men  vibrate 
between  two  extremes ;  and  only  after 
wide  investigation  that  they  take  in  all 
truth. 

Before  men  had  learned  much  of  the 
globe,  and  of  physical  laws,  they  were 
guided,  in  assigning  causes  for  the  effects 
which  they  witnessed,  by  their  venera- 
tion and  imagination.  When  the  imag- 
ination, instead  of  reason,  guides  igno- 


THE  EEASOy  OF  PLAYER.  55 

rant  men,  tliey  are  almost  always  wont 
to  ascribe  effects,  whose  causes  are  not 
visible,  to  spiritual  influence,  infernal  or 
supernal.  The  progress  of  observation 
and  investigation  drives  men  from  these 
superstitious  notions,  and  one  effect  af- 
ter another  is  wrested  from  the  supposed 
agency  of  spirits,  and  becomes  affixed  to 
its  natural  cause.  This  was  the  case 
with  celestial  appearances — the  comets, 
the  Aurora  Borealis.  This  was  the  case 
also  in  a  great  measure  with  diseases. 
It  is  not  long  since  pestilences,  plagues, 
and  many  special  forms  of  disease,  such 
as  leprosy,  and  many  varieties  of  convul- 
sive disease  which  affected  the  nervous 
system,  were  regarded  by  the  medical 
faculty,  and  by  the  Church  itself,  as  the 
results  of  spiritual  or  super naturiil  causes. 
It  is  only  since  the  art  of  printing  that 
these  notions  have  been  in  a  measure 
done  away.  I  remember,  in  my  own 
day,  very  long  sermons  to  prove  that  the 
cholera  did  not  depend  on  natural  agen- 


50  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

cies,  but  tbat  Grod  held  it  in  his  haud, 
and  dropped  it  down  upon  the  world. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  there  are  moral 
results  to  be  wrought  out  by  all  these 
natural  phenomena,  but  it  was  held  that 
they  were  produced  by  preternatural 
means.  It  is  not  many  ages  since  a  man 
would  have  been  expelled  from  any 
sound  church  if  he  did  not  believe  that 
diseases  resulted  from  the  direct  exercise 
of  Divine  power,  instead  of  intermediate 
causation  ;  and  that  healing  was  to  be  ef- 
fected only  through  some  form  of  spirit- 
ual incantation. 

The  same  was  true  of  the  common 
events  of  familiar  life.  Men  saw  evi- 
dence of  the  agency  of  good  and  of  bad 
spirits  around  them,  at  all  times,  and  in 
every  minute  event.  Since  the  world 
began  this  has  been  common ;  and  it  is 
no  commoner  now  than  ever  before. 
Men  have  always  been  watching  with 
superstitious  fear,  lest,  some  charm  being 
forgotten,  lurking  mischief  should  gain 
advantasre  of  them. 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  5  7 

The  growth  of  natural  science  has 
tended  very  much  to  sweep  away  such 
views ;  first,  from  philosophical  minds ; 
gradually  as  general  information  increas- 
ed, from  the  minds  of  all  well-informed 
common  men :  and  now,  in  the  immense 
progress  of  science  and  the  diffusion  of  a 
knowledge  of  it  among  the  common  peo- 
ple, there  is  a  very  marked  tendency  to 
go  to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  not  only 
to  refer  each  special  effect  to  a  corre- 
sponding natural  cause,  but  to  deny  that 
there  are  any  effects  which,  are  the  re- 
sults of  Divine  volition.  Some  men  are 
ready  to  say  that  all  things  are  effects 
of  physical  causes,  and  that  there  is  no 
immediate  Divine  volition  exerted  upon 
natural  laws.  This  is  as  monstrous  in 
science,  as  it  is  absurd  in  religion.  If 
men  take  the  premise  that  all  effects  to 
be  expected  in  this  world  are  provided 
for  in  organised  natural  laws,  and  that 
there  are  none  which  result  from  Divine 
efficiency,  they  must  go  through  with  all 


58  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

the  conclusions.  They  must  hold  that 
human  intelligence  is  our  only  guide  in 
this  world,  or,  in  other  words,  is  the  only 
God  of  natural  powers ;  they  must  argue 
that  no  man  will  be  helped  in  this  world 
except  so  far  as  he  helps  himself,  by  find- 
ing out  the  paths  of  nature  and  walking 
in  them — a  falsehood  which  is  all  the 
worse  because  it  is  half  true.  For  in 
makino'  an  axe,  the  head  is  of  iron  and 
the  edge  of  steel ;  but  the  head  is  the 
larger  and  heavier  part,  while  the  edge 
is  but  a  narrow  strip.  So  with  such  a 
falsehood  ;  the  greater  part  of  it  is  true, 
but  this  is  made  only  to  add  weight  and 
power  to  the  cutting  edge,  which  is  false. 
They  must  declare  that  the  belief  in  a 
special  and  particular  providence  is  a  su- 
perstition ;  that  God  works  by  laws,  and 
that  He  never  interferes  with  or  uses 
them.  They  must  believe  that,  conse- 
quently, prayer  is  a  mere  poetic  exercise ; 
good  to  those  that  like  it,  only  because 
it  reacts  upon  their  feelings,  and  soothes 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  59 

and  calms  them.  They  must  suppose 
that  prayers  which  the  heathen  write, 
and  which  the  wind  offers  up  for  them 
by  turning  a  wheel,  like  a  mill,  are  as  ef- 
fectual on  the  laws  of  nature  as  an  hum- 
ble Christian's  prayer.  They  must  hold 
that  the  doctrine  of  miracles  is  to  be 
given  np,  as  nothing  but  a  superlative 
superstition.  And  for  this  matter,  such 
men  usually  do  teach  that  miracles  al- 
ways happened  in  dark  ages,  among  ig- 
norant men ;  that  many  of  the  same  re- 
sults can  now  be  produced  by  scientific 
causes;  and  that  a  belief  in  them,  as  ef- 
fects divinely  produced,  is  unworthy  of 
an  enlightened  philosopher. 

I  need  not  say  how  far  men  have  drift- 
ed away  from  the  Kew  Testament  who 
have  reached  this  ground.  Such,  a  man 
is  not  only  not  a  Christian,  but  whatever 
natural  religion  he  may  have,  if  he  be 
consistent,  he  must  reject  the  New  Tes- 
tament altogether,  as  an  authoritative 
guide,  and  give  himself  up  to  nature  and 


60  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

reason.  For  if  there  be  one  truth  more 
especially  taught  in  the  Bible  than  an- 
other, it  is  the  fact  of  God's  activity  and 
influence  in  human  life.  If  there  ever 
comes  a  day  in  which  it  can  be  shewn 
by  science  that  there  is  no  active  inter- 
ference of  the  Divine  creative  will  in  the 
special  affairs  of  men,  science  in  that  day 
will  demolish  the  New  Testament.  When 
it  can  be  scientifically  demonstrated  that 
no  more  effects  are  wrought  in  this  world 
by  the  intentional  interposition  of  Divine 
volition,  than  those  which  fall  out  in  the 
way  of  ordinary  and  unhelped  natural 
causation,  in  that  day,  I  am  free  to  say, 
the  New  Testament  will  be  overthrown. 
It  will  be  regarded  as  an  amiable  book, 
but  one  whose  doctrines  have  been  refut- 
ed, and  are  passed  away. 

This  doctrine  of  the  presence  and  act- 
ual interference  of  God  in  the  world,  pro- 
ducing effects  which  would  not  have  fall- 
en out  otherwise,  is  taught  in  the  Bible 
as  against  idolatry,  as  against  naturalism, 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  61 

(in  tlie  early  chapters  of  John,)  as  the  ar- 
gnment  and  foundation  of  prayer,  of  cour- 
age, of  patience,  and  of  hope,  and  as  a 
special  development,  among  others,  of 
the  incarnation  of  Christ  to  bring  to  light 
the  reality  of  God,  who  wrought  invisi- 
bly in  life  and  nature,  both  before  and 
since. 

It  is  to  be  admitted  that  this  globe  and 
its  inhabitants  are  included  in  a  system 
of  physical  laws  ;  that  these  are,  in  their 
nature,  unchanged  and  unchangeable ; 
that  they  are  incapable  of  increase  or  de- 
crease; that  they  are  sufficient  for  all 
ordinary  purposes  of  human  life ;  that 
the  welfare  and  happiness  of  men  depend 
largely  upon  a  wise  employment  of  them  ; 
and  that  the  progress  of  the  race  is  large- 
ly to  be  effected  by  their  wise  application 
of  them.  Not  only  would  I  cast  no  ob- 
stacle in  the  way  of  scientific  research, 
but  I  hail  it  as  the  great  almoner  of 
God's  bounty.  Men  should  be  instruct- 
ed to  become  better  acquainted  with  the 


62  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

laws  and  influences  whicti  operate  npon 
both  tlae  bod}^  and  tbe  mind,  and  upon 
the  natural  world.  Men  will  never  be 
as  good  Christians  as  they  ought,  nntil 
they  know  more  perfectly  how  their 
bodies  are  put  together,  and  what  is  in 
their  own  minds,  and  the  natural  laws 
of  the  one  and  of  the  other.  Science  is 
yet  to  interpret  Scripture  in  many  re- 
spects ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  all  the 
most  characteristic  elements  of  revealed 
or  inspired  truth  will  in  the  end  be  cor- 
roborated, and  not  harmed,  by  the  prog- 
ress of  natural  science.  I  believe  in 
everything  that  is  true.  I  am  not  neces- 
sarily to  believe  in  everything  that  pre- 
tends to  be  true ;  but  when  anything  is 
proved,  whatever  it  overturns,  I  am 
bound  to  it  by  the  allegiance  with  which 
I  am  bound  to  Grod !  He  that  denies 
the  truth  in  or  out  of  the  Bible,  denies 
God! 

The  progress  of  science  lays  a  surer 
foundation  for  a  belief  in  God's  active  in- 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  63 

terference  in  human  affairs  than  has  ex- 
isted without  it.  When  maturer  fruits 
of  investigation  shall  be  had,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  science  itself  will  estab- 
lish our  faith  in  prayer,  in  miracles,  and 
in  special  providence. 

There  are  respects  in  which  natural 
laws  are  beyond  the  reach  of  all  human 
interference  and  control.  There  are 
spheres  in  which  light  and  heat  cannot 
be  touched  and  controlled.  There  are 
various  attractions  which  perform  in 
their  own  way  their  own  work,  beyond 
man's  guidance  or  reach — such  are  the 
great  laws  which  bind  together  the  stel- 
lar universe.  Great  currents  and  pas- 
sages of  natural  powers  are  put  entirely 
beyond  man's  hand.  But  it  is  just  as 
certain  that  there  are,  also,  in  God's 
system  of  nature,  another  class  of  laws 
which  come  close  to  us,  and  whose  office 
is,  or  seems  to  be,  to  minister  to  human 
life.  They  are  either  modifications  of 
great  laws,  or  they  are   separate  laws. 


64  THE  liEASON  OF  PRAYER 

And  in  respect  to  these  I  affirm  that 
they  are  not  fructified,  and  do  not  per- 
form their  function,  till  they  are  controll- 
ed by  human  volition.  God  has  made 
the  agencies  which  concern  human  life 
to  be  of  such  a  nature  that  the  htiinan 
mind  is  necessary  to  the  full  de^veloj)- 
ment  and  greatest  fruitfxdness  of  nat- 
'ural  laws.  It  is  supposed  by  many  that 
a  natural  law  is  perfect  in  itself;  where- 
as it  is  perfected,  in  many  instances,  only 
when  it  is  permeated  by  human  volition. 
Electricity,  for  instance,  plays  a  round 
of  its  own.  It  has  its  own  pastures,  and 
its  own  great  running  grounds.  It  per- 
forms a  large  function,  unknown,  beyond 
our  reach,  and  without  our  knowledge. 
But  so  far  as  ordinary  purposes  of  civil- 
ised life  are  concerned,  electricity  does 
nothing  till  we  have  taught  it  how  to 
serve  us ;  then  it  runs  swifter  races  for 
human  convenience  than  ever  were  run 
before.  When  the  mind  takes  hold  of 
it,  electricity  becomes  a  patient  drudge ; 


THE  REASON  OF  PRATER.  65 

SO  that  we  now  work  by  lightning, 
which  would  never  have  done  a  single 
thing  for  us  if  it  had  not  been  harnessed 
by  the  human  mind.  But  now,  above 
the  sea,  and  under  the  sea  ere  long,  it 
shall  carry  the  messages  of  nations,  flash- 
ing from  the  East  to  the  West,  proclaim- 
ing war  or  heralding  peace,  and  perform- 
ing the  great  offices  of  civilisation.  When 
man  takes  it  by  the  head  and  says,  "  Ee- 
ceive  my  bridle,"  and  throws  over  it  the 
saddle,  and  says,  "  Take  me  for  your 
rider,"  it  becomes  patient  and  submissive, 
and  acknowledges  man  as  its  master. 

Light  performs  a  great  amount  of 
work, — whether  we  are  waking  or  sleep- 
ing; in  its  vast  journeys  through  the 
universe — in  its  sun-flashes  and  moon-re- 
flections ;  but  man's  mind  seizes  this  law, 
and  does  what  Phaeton  could  not,  drives 
it.  We  have  it  in  our  dwelling.  We 
make  it  work  along  our  coasts.  We  di- 
vide it,  and  set  it  at  work  in  the  garden 
and  on  the  farm.     We  give  it  the  power 


66  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

of  a  living  pencil,  and  make  it  draw  ar- 
tists' pictures.  And  yet  we  are  in  the 
midst  of  a  carping  set  of  philosophers 
who  say  that  we  can  obey  natural  laws, 
but  cannot  control  them.  "We  do  con- 
trol them. 

Water  has  a  certain  round  of  grand  ef- 
fects, and  these  are  performed  whether  a 
creature  looks  on  or  not.  The  ocean 
never  asks  man  what  it  may  do  with  its 
own  waves  and  upon  its  own  domain ! 
The  old  Polar  Sea  —  tlie  only  mystery 
now  left  among  the  oceans  of  the  globe — 
has  rolled  for  ages,  by  day  and  night,  by 
summer  and  winter,  with  no  eye  to  watch 
it — except  from  above !  That  mighty  un- 
explored wilderness  of  mysterious  water  1 
■ — it  does  what  it  will,  and  is  not  depend- 
ent upon  man.  But  water  is  dependent 
upon  him  for  doing  many  things  which 
it  never  could  do  otherwise.  While  it 
works  in  nature  and  on  the  globe,  it  is 
not  subject  to  his  will ;  but  when  it 
works  for  human  life  it  immediately  be- 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  67 

comes  his  disciple.  Man  seizes  the  laws, 
and  canals  shoot  forth,  mills  live,  irriga- 
tion turns  barren  heaths  to  gardens,  tides 
dig  out  channels,  and  the  patient  hydro- 
static pump  drives  down  to  her  element 
the  vast  Leviathan.  "Water  could  do 
none  of  these  things  without  man's  help. 
The  things  which  natural  laws  can  do 
without  human  volition  are  not  so  many, 
nor  are  they  more  wonderful  than  the 
things  which  they  do  only  by  the  life- 
giving  tonch  of  man's  mind. 

Heat,  in  the  sun,  produces  the  seasons. 
How  vast  is  the  great  fire-place  of  the 
universe !  Yet  compare  it  with  the 
sphere  in  which  fire  works  under  the  do- 
minion of  man  —  in  the  forge,  in  the 
furnace,  over  the  blow-pipe,  serving  the 
domestic  range,  warming  the  house,  and 
pouring  summer  throughout  the  year 
within  the  dwellings  ! 

Look  at  nature's  fruits.  There  is  but 
a  heginrdng  in  natural  fruits,  and  they 
never,  when  left  to  nature  alone,  reach 


68  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

beyond  that  point.  When  a  man  finds 
a  crab-apple  in  the  woods,  he  would  not 
willingly  find  it  more  than  once ;  yet, 
brought  to  his  own  orchard,  it  becomes  a 
fine  fruit.  But  did  nature  make  the  pip- 
pin ?  Nature  had  been  trying  her  hand 
for  years  and  years,  and  had  never  been 
able  to  get  beyond  the  crab-apple.  Man 
says  to  her,  "  You  are  a  bungling  appren- 
tice; Zwill  make  you  a  journeyman." 
Nature  can  make  iron,  but  she  never 
made  a  sword.  She  never  made  a  jack- 
knife,  a  steam-engine,  a  knife  and  fork — 
nothing  but  bare,  cold,  dead  iron. 

Now,  is  this  a  course  of  specious  meta- 
physical reasoning  ?  Is  not  this  truth 
reasonable  ?  Are  not  these  facts  alleged 
conclusive  ?  And  if  they  be  true,  what 
is  the  result?  Nature  has  a  certain 
crude,  general  function  which  natural 
laws  perform  of  themselves,  without  any 
regard  to  men.  But  these  laws  are  made 
to  be  vitalised  and  directed  to  a  higher 
development  by  the  control  of  the  human 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  69 

mind  and  will.  The  laws  of  tlie  globe 
are  to  be  taken  hold  of  by  man's  will,  as 
really  as  the  laws  of  the  body  are.  The 
secondary  effects  of  natural  laws  are  just 
as  much  a  part  of  their  nature  as  the 
primary,  and  are  of  equal  imjDortance. 
In  fact,  it  is  these  that  constitute  the  ele- 
ments of  civilisation.  While  natural 
laws,  in  a  certain  way,  influence  and  con- 
trol men,  jQi  they  are,  in  the  effects 
which  they  produce,  just  as  much  con- 
trolled by  man,  and  just  as  dependent  on 
him.  If  nature  should  abandon  men, 
they  would  die,  and  it  would  become  pov- 
erty-stricken. Let  nature  forget  us,  and 
the  heart  would  cease  to  beat.  The  pul 
sations  of  endless  electrical  currents  would 
cease.  On  the  other  hand,  let  man  for- 
get nature,  and  the  city  would  crumble, 
and  go  back  to  a  wilderness  ;  the  garden 
which  had  grown  up  from  a  thistle- 
ground,  would  return  to  its  native  condi- 
tion ;  cultivated  seeds  would  shrink  back 
to  their  original  poverty  ;  and  all  domes- 


70  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

tic  animals  would  rebound  to  their  wild 
state.  Nature  needs  man  to  keep  her  at 
work. 

It  is  this  view  that  settles  all  questions 
about  man's  necessity  to  obey.  God  has 
not  put  us  before  nature  to  make  us  only 
its  pupil,  but  also  its  master.  We  are 
not  alone  to  look  up  and  take,  but  to 
look  down  and  control.  We  are  not  only 
to  obey,  but  also  to  rule.  We  are  to 
obey  for  the  sake  of  ruling.  The  whole 
talk  about  the  absolute  and  inflexible 
government  of  natural  law  has  no  found- 
ation except  in  fool's  brains.  It  is  a  di- 
vided empire,  and  man's  part  is  more 
than  nature's.  When  God  made  man, 
He  made  more  of  nature  in  Him  than  He 
did  in  all  the  rest  of  the  world  besides  ! 

The  question  now  arises,  Is  there  a 
moral  or  scientific  probability  that  God 
ever  produces  results  by  natural  laws  in 
this  world  which  otherwise  would  not 
have  been  produced?  If  we  drive  na- 
tural laws,  cannot  God  do  it?     I  hold, 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER  71 

becoause  the  Bible  teaches  it,  and  now  I 
bold  it  more  because  nature  and  science 
teach  it,  that  there  are  millions  of  results 
that  never  would  have  fallen  out  in  the 
course  of  nature  that  are  now  continually 
happening   on   account  of  God's  special 
mercy.     The  doctrine  of  a  special  provi- 
dence is  this:    God  administers   natural 
laws  —  of  the  mind,  of  the  body,  and  the 
outward  world  —  so  as  to  produce  effects 
which  they  never  would  have  done  of 
themselves.     Man  can  do  this,  and  why 
not  God  ?     By  a  vvrise  use  of  natural  laws, 
man   can  make  the   difference  between 
comfort  and  discomfort.     He  can  till  the 
farm,  and  make  the  seasons  serve  him. 
He  can  take  natural  laws,  and  gird  him- 
self about  with  them,  so  that  they  shall 
make   him   rich,  and  wise,   and   strong. 
Men  can  do  it  for  themselves  —  why  can- 
not God  do  it  for  them?     Men  can  do  it 
for  their  children,  for  their  neighbours' 
children,  for  scores  and  hundreds  of  per 
sons.      A   farmer   that   administers    his 


72  THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER. 

estate  wisely,  will  liave  enougli,  not  onlj 
for  himself,  but  for  others.  His  children 
will  be  fed,  the  neighbourhood  supplied, 
and  the  veins  of  commerce  swollen  by 
the  overplus  of  his  sagacity.  A  man  can 
say  to  the  light,  to  the  water,  to  the  sea- 
sons, "I  will,  by  you,  make  a  special 
providence  for  this  whole  town,"  and  he 
can  do  it ;  for  if  he  falls  back,  there  will 
not  be  abundance,  but  if  he  goes  forward 
there  will  be.  That  is  not  all.  A  man 
may  be  put  at  a  point  where  —  as  Napo- 
leon was,  or  Wellington  in  Spain,  or  Sir 
John  Moore  in  the  north  of  Portugal,  or 
Clive  in  India  —  he  can  make  a  special 
providence  for  a  nation,  for  a  race,  for  an 
age,  for  one  land,  or  for  the  globe.  Now, 
God  can  do  a  great  deal  more  than  man, 
and  a  great  deal  better.  Is  there  any  ob 
jection  to  such  a  doctrine  ? 

In  regard  to  the  doctrine  of  prayer, 
many  men  say,  "Do  you  suppose  that 
God  will  make  any  difference  whether 
you  pray  or  not?''     The  reply  is,  that 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  73 

God  can  if  He  chooses.  But  whether 
He  will  or  not,  depends  very  much  on 
how  I  pray,  and  what  I  pray  for.  I  can 
give  my  boy  a  book  or  a  bow  every  day 
in  the  year,  but  whether  I  will  or  not  is 
another  thing.  God  will  not  do  for  men 
what  men  can  do  for  themselves.  Nor 
will  He  do  for  them  at  present  w^hat 
they,  after  a  proper  course  of  develop- 
ment, will  by  and  by  be  able  to  do  for 
themselves.  But  a  man  has  a  right  to 
go  up  along  the  path  of  his  weakness, 
and  say,  "  I  have  done  what  I  could ;  now 
hear  my  prayer,  and  do  for  me  what  I 
cannot  do  for  myself."  And  if  it  is  a 
thing  that  is  needed,  God  will  answer  the 
prayer.  For  He  loves  to  give  needed 
things  better  than  earthly  parents  love  to 
give  good  gifts  to  their  children.  Sup- 
pose you  have  been  travelling  on  the 
railway  with  your  child,  and  it  becomes 
restless  with  fatigue.  Its  rest  has  been 
broken  by  night- travelling,  and  it  is  hun- 
gry and  asks  for  food.     But  a  bank  of 


74  THE  BEASON  OF  PRAYER. 

snow  lies  across  tlie  track,  and  tlie  train 
cannot  go  on.  It  waits.  Anybody 
would  feel  pity  for  such  a  child  —  even 
if  it  were  a  stranger's  !  But  how  much 
more  if  it  were  his  own  ?  And  if  it  be 
my  child,  and  says,  "Pa,  water,  water," 
it  cuts  me  to  the  heart  to  hear  it !  But 
by  and  by,  with  double  and  treble  ele- 
ments of  iron,  the  track  is  opened,  the 
way  is  cleared,  and  we  are  hurried  on  to 
the  next  station.  The  first  bolt  I  make 
is  into  the  hotel;  for  I  am  hungry,  not 
for  myself,  but  for  the  child;  and  I 
break  through  the  crowd  back  again  to 
the  train  with  bread  in  my  hands  for  the 
child.  Ah,  do  you  suppose  the  bread  is 
half  so  sweet  to  his  mouth  as  to  my  eyes 
that  watch  his  eager  eating  ?  But  this  is 
Grod's  figure,  and  not  mine.  He  declares 
that  He  is  more  willing  to  give  good  gifts 
to  them  that  ask  Him,  than  parents  are 
to  give  to  their  children. 

Have  you  ever  prayed  on  this  princi- 
ple, and  found  your  prayer  unanswered  ? 


THE  REASON  OF  PRAYER.  75 

ISTot  prayer  for  amusement;  for  some 
men  pray,  who  begin  with  Adam,  and 
come  leisurely  down  all  the  way  through 
to  ''Thy  kingdom  come,"  and  then  wind 
up  with  the  "power  and  glory,  for  ever 
and  ever.  Amen."  That  is  not  prayer ; 
or  at  least  it  is  not  such  praying  as  will 
be  answered.  But  did  you  ever,  under 
the  pressure  of  a  real  want,  go  to  Grod 
and  say,  "Thou,  Father,  canst  help  me; 
give  me  thine  aid,"  and  not  have  your 
prayer  answered?  Glorious  old  Martin 
Luther  knew  how  to  pray.  He  used  to 
take  one  of  God's  promises,  and  laying  it 
down,  would  say,  "Kow,  Lord,  here  is 
Thy  word !  If  Thou  dost  not  keep  it,  I 
will  never  believe  Thee  again."  This 
may  be  called  audacious,  but  it  was  not 
audacity  in  such  a  Christian  as  Luther. 

What  is  needed  is,  that  we  should  take 
a  larger  and  broader  faith,  and  we  shall 
then  have  no  dificulty  with  prayer,  or 
special  providences,  or  miracles ;  but  all 
their  problems  will  be  solved,  and  their 
mj^steries  cleared  away. 


*'  0  Lord  !  how  happy  should  we  be 
If  we  could  cast  our  care  on  Thee, 

If  we  from  self  could  rest ; 
And  feel  at  heart  that  One  above 
In  perfect  wisdom,  perfect  love, 
Is  working  for  the  best. 

"  How  far  from  this  our  daily  life  ! 
Ever  disturbed  by  anxious  strife, 

By  sudden  wild  alarms  ; 
Oh,  could  we  but  relinquish  all 
Our  earthly  props,  and  simply  fall 

On  Thy  almighty  arms  ! 

"  Could  we  but  kneel  and  cast  our  load. 
E'en  while  we  pray,  upon  our  God, 

Then  rise  with  lighten'd  cheer ; 
Sure  that  the  Father,  who  is  nigh, 
To  still  the  famisli'd  raven's  cry. 

Will  hear,  in  that  we  fear. 

"  We  cannot  trust  Him  as  we  should, 
So  chafes  fallen  nature's  restless  mood 

To  cast  its  peace  away  ; 
Yet  birds  and  flowerets  round  us  preach-— 
All,  all  the  present  evil  teach, 

SuflScient  for  the  day. 

"  Lord,  make  these  faithless  hearts  of  ours 
Such  lessons  learn  from  birds  and  flowers, 

Make  therefrom  self  to  cease  ; 
Leave  all  things  to  a  Father's  will, 
And  taste,  before  Him  lying  still, 
E'en  in  afiEliction,  peace." 


Ef^t  (K^tmt  lEpcmplar. 


Hebrews  ii.  16-13. 
"  For  verily  he  took  not  on  him  the  nature  of  angels  ;  but  he 
took  on  him  the  seed  of  Abraham.  "Wherefore  in  all  things  it 
behoved  him  to  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren,  that  he 
might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high  priest  in  things  per- 
taining to  God,  to  make  reconciliation  for  the  sins  of  the 
people.  For  in  that  he  himself  hath  suffered  being  tempted, 
he  is  able  to  succour  them  that  are  tempted." 

Hebrews  iii.  1,  2. 
"  Wherefore,  holy  brethren,  partakers  of  the  heavenly  calling, 
consider  the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  our  profession,  Christ 
Jesus  ;  who  was  faithful  to  him  that  appointed  him,  as  also 
Moses  was  faithful  in  all  his  house." 

Hebrews   iv.  15. 
"  For  we  have  not  an  High  Priest  which  cannot  be  touched  with 
the  feeling  of  our  infirmities  ;  but  was  in  all  points  tempted 
like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin." 

John  xvi.  23,  24. 
*' Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you.  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  the 
Father  in  m\'  name,  he  will  give  it  you.     Hitherto  have  ye 
asked  nothing  in  my  name  :  ask,  and  ye  shall  receive,  that 
your  joy  may  be  full." 

1  John  ii.  1. 

"  And  if  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father, 

Jesus  Christ  the  righteous." 


'  0  Jesu,  teach  me  like  Thyself  to  fly 
This  poisonous  world,  and  all  its  charms  defy. 
Give  me  devotion  which  shall  never  tire  ; 
Fix'd  contemplation  which  my  love  may  fire  ; 
A  heavenly  tincture  in  my  whole  discourse, 
A  fervent  zeal  which  may  my  prayers  enforce ; 
Of  heavenly  joys  a  sweet  foretasting  view. 
That  I  on  earth  may  only  heaven  pursue." 

Bishop  Ken. 


'  Here  in  Thy  gracious  hands  I  fall. 

To  Thee  I  cUng  with  faith's  embrace  ; 
0  righteous  Sovereign,  hear  my  call, 

And  turn,  oh,  turn,  to  me  in  grace ! 
For  through  Thy  sorrows  I  am  just, 

And  guilt  no  more  in  me  is  found  ; 

Thus  reconciled,  my  soul  is  bound 
To  Thee  in  endless  love  and  trust. 

'  Yes,  yes,  to  Thee  my  soul  would  cleave, 
Oh  choose  it.  Saviour,  for  Thy  throne  ! 
Couldst  Thou  in  love  to  me  once  leave 

The  glory  that  was  all  Thine  own, 
So  honour  Thou  my  life  and  heart, 
That  Thou  mayst  find  a  heaven  in  me ; 
And  when  this  house  decay'd  shall  be. 
Then  grant  the  heaven  where  now  Thou  art." 

Lyra  Gekmanica. 


^iie  a^vtat  12ptmplar. 


T  EAYING  the  crowded  shore,  the 
-^  thronged  highway,  and,  crossing  the 
turfy  fields,  Christ  came  to  the  edges  of 
the  mountains.  His  pulse  throbbed  and 
his  brealii  quickened  as  He  clomb,  as  ours 
do  when  we  climb.  The  sparrow,  not 
knowing  its  Creator  and  Protector,  flew 
away  from  His  coming.  His  form  cast  its 
shadow,  as  He  passed,  over  bush,  and 
flower,  and  grass,  and  they  knew  not  that 
their  Maker  overshadowed  them.  Sounds 
grew  fainter  behind  Him.  Those  who  had 
followed  Him,  one  by  one,  dropped  off, 
and  the  last  eye  that  looked  after  Him 
had  lost  His  form  amid  the  wavering 
leaves,  and  was  withdrawn.  He  was  in 
the  mountain,  and  alone.  The  day  was 
passing.      The  last   red  light  followed 


80  THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR. 

Him,  and  stained  tlie  air  of  tlie  forest  with 
ruddy  hues.  At  length  the  sun  went 
down,  and  it  was  twihght  in  the  moun- 
tains, though  bright  yet  in  the  open  field. 
But  when  it  was  twilight  in  the  field,  it 
was  already  dark  on  the  mountain.  The 
stars  were  coming  forward  and  filhng  the 
heavens. 

No  longer  drawn  outward  by  the  wants 
of  tlie  crowd,  what  were  the  thoughts  of 
such  a  soul  ?  And  what  were  the  pray- 
ers? Even  if  Christ  were  but  a  man, 
such  an  errand,  and  of  such  a  man,  would 
be  sublime!  But  how  foolish  are  all 
words  which  would  approach  the  grand- 
eur of  Christ's  solitude  upon  the  moun- 
tain, if  we  regard  Him  as  very  God, 
though  incarnated,  communing  with  His 
coequal  Father ! 

What  was  the  varied  prayer?  "What 
tears  were  shed,  what  groans  were  breath- 
ed, what  silent  yearnings,  what  voiceless 
utterances  of  desire,  no  man  may  know. 
Walking  to  and  fro,  or  sitting  upon  some 


THE   GREAT  EXEMPLAR.  81 

fallen  rock,  or  prostrate  in  overpowering 
emotion,  the  hours  passed  on  until  morn- 
ing dawned.  When  He  went  down  to 
His  disciples,  they  neither  inquired  nor 
did  He  speak  of  His  mountain  watch. 

If  prayer  be  the  communion  of  the  soul 
with  God,  it  is  but  a  little  part  of  it  that 
can  be  uttered  in  words ;  and  still  less  of 
it  that  will  take  form  of  words  in  the 
presence  of  others.  Of  outward  wants, 
of  outward  things,  of  one's  purely  earthly 
estate,  we  can  speak  freely.  But  of  the 
souVs  inward  life  — of  its  struggles  with 
itself,  its  hopes,  yearnings,  griefs,  loves, 
joys,  of  its  very  personality  —  it  is  re- 
served, and  to  such  a  degree,  that  there 
can  be  no  prayer  expressive  of  the  inward 
life,  until  we  have  entered  into  the  closet, 
and  shut  to  the  door.  Every  Christian, 
whose  life  has  developed  itself  into  great 
experience  of  secret  prayer,  knows  that 
the  hidden  things  of  the  closet  transcend 
all  uttered  prayer  as  much  in  depth,  rich- 
ness, and  power,  as  they  do  in  volume 
and  space. 


82  THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR. 

Sometimes  we  mourn  the  loss  of  old 
books  in  ancient  libraries;  we  marvel 
what  more  tlie  world  would  have  had  if 
the  Alexandrian  library  had  not  perish- 
ed ;  we  regret  the  decay  of  parchments, 
the  rude  waste  of  monks  with  their 
stupid  palimpsests.  We  sorrow  for  the 
lost  arts,  and  grieve  that  the  fairest  por- 
tions of  Grecian  art  lie  buried  from  re- 
search ;  that  the  Parthenon  should  come 
down  within  two  hundred  years  of  our 
time,  with  its  wealth  of  magnificence,  a 
voice  in  stone  from  the  old  world  to  the 
new,  and  yet  perish  almost  before  our 
eyes  ! 

But  when  one  reflects  upon  the  secret 
history  which  has  transpired  in  men's 
thoughts,  and  that  the  noblest  natures 
have  been  they  whose  richest  experiences 
could  never  have  been  drawn  forth 
through  the  pen,  or  recorded  in  books  — 
but  have  found  utterance  through  prayer, 
and  before  the  conscious  glory  of  the  In- 
visible Presence  —  I  am  persuaded  that 


THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR.  83 

the  silent  literature  of  the  closet  is  in- 
finitely more  wonderful,  in  every  attri- 
bute of  excellence,  than  all  that  has  been 
sung  in  song,  or  recorded  in  literature, 
or  lost  in  all  the  concussions  of  time.  If 
rarest  classical  fragments,  the  perished 
histories  and  poets  of  every  people,  could 
be  revived,  they  would  be  as  nothing 
in  comparison  with  the  effusions  of  the 
closet,  could  they  be  gathered  and  re- 
corded. 

The  noblest  natures,  it  is,  that  resort  to 
this  study.  The  rarest  inspiration  rests 
upon  them.  Flying  between  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,  with  winged  faith,  they 
reach  ont  into  glories  which  do  not  de- 
scend to  the  lower  spheres  of  thought. 

How  many  souls,  so  large  and  noble 
that  they  rose  up  in  those  days  of  perse- 
cution, and  left  home  and  love  for  the 
faith  of  Christ,  and  went  to  the  wilder- 
ness and  dwelt  therein,  gave  forth  in 
prayer  their  whole  life!  Doubtless  their 
daily  prayers  were  rich  and  deep  in  spirit- 


84  THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR. 

ual  life.  But  tliere  are  peculiar  days  to 
all  —  days  of  vision  —  days  wlien  we  see 
all  human  life  as  in  a  picture,  and  all 
future  life  as  in  a  vision  ;  and  -when  the 
reason,  the  imagination,  the  affections, 
and  the  experiences  of  life  are  so  temper- 
ed together  that  we  consciously  live  more 
in  an  hour  than  at  other  times  in  months. 
Every  man  has  his  mountains  of  trans- 
figuration, and  sees  and  talks  with  the 
revealed  and  radiant  dead.  In  such  ex- 
periences, what  must  have  been  the  won- 
ders of  prayer,  when  the  noblest  natures 
—  rich  in  all  goodness,  deeply  cultured  in 
knowledge,  refined  in  all  taste,  and  en- 
riched in  pure  lives,  but  driven  out 
among  the  wild  shaking  leaves  of  the 
wilderness  for  their  faith's  sake  —  poured 
out  their  whole  soul  before  God ;  their 
conscious  weakness  and  sinfulness,  their 
yearnings  and  trials,  their  hopes  and 
strivings,  their  sense  of  this  life  and  their 
view  of  the  other,  their  longing  for  God's 
Church  on  earth  and  their  prospect  of  the 


THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR.  85 

glorified  Churcli  in  heaven !  "What  if 
some  listener  had  made  haste  to  put 
down  the  prayers  of  Luther,  with  all 
his  strong  crying  and  tears,  if  that  had 
been  possible  !  How  many  noble  natures 
gave  up  to  celibacy  and  virginity  the 
wondrous  treasures  of  multitudinous  af- 
fections. And  when  at  periods  of  heart- 
swellings,  in  hours  when  the  secret  tide 
set  in  upon  men  from  the  eternal  ocean, 
and  carried  them  upon  mighty  longings 
and  3^earnings  towards  God^  before  whom 
they  poured  forth  in  mingled  sobs  and 
words  those  affections  which  were  meant 
to  be  eased  in  the  love-relations  of  lifie, 
but  which,  hindered  and  choked,  found 
tumultuous  vent  in  mighty  prayer  to 
God! 

Consider  what  mothers'  hearts  have 
always  been.  How  many  thousand  thou- 
sands of  them  have  watched  day  and 
night  over  the  cradle  till  the  body 
failed  and  the  spirit  waxed  even  keener  ; 
and  with  what  wondrous  gushes  of  words, 


86  THE  GREAT  EXEMPEAH. 

such  as  would  disdain  to  be  called  elo- 
quence, have  they  besought  God,  with 
every  persuasion,  for  the  life  of  the  child  ! 
We  judge  these  things  by  our  own  ex- 
perience. All  the  words  that  were  ever 
spoken,  and  all  the  thoughts  that  we  have 
conceived,  are  unfit  to  bear  up  the  skirt 
of  those  prayers,  which  burst,  without 
words,  right  out  of  our  hearts,  for  the 
life  of  dying  children  ! 

Consider  what  a  heavenly  wonder  must 
be  the  Book  of  Prayer  that  lies  before 
God  !  For  groans  are  interpreted  there. 
Mute  joys  gain  tongue  before  God.  Un- 
utterable desires,  that  go  silently  up  from 
the  heart,  burst  forth  into  divine  plead- 
ings when,  touched  by  the  Spirit,  their 
imprisoned  nature  comes  forth !  Could 
thoughts  or  aspirations  be  made  visible, 
could  they  assume  a  form  that  befitted 
their  nature,  what  an  endless  procession 
would  be  seen  going  towards  the  throne 
of  God,  day  and  night!  Consider  the 
wrestlings  of  all  the  wretched,  the  cry 


THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR.  87 

of  orphans,  the  ceaseless  pleadings  of  the 
bereaved,  and  of  those  fearing  bereave- 
ment ;  the  prayer  of  trust  betrayed,  of 
hope  darkened,  of  home  deserted,  of  joy 
quenched;  the  prayers  of  Mthfal  men 
from  dungeons  and  prison-houses;  the 
prayers  of  slaves,  who  found  man,  law, 
and  the  Church  twined  around  and  set 
against  them,  and  had  no  way  left  to 
look  but  upward  towards  God  !  The 
hearts  of  men  by  myriads  have  been 
pressed  by  the  world  as  grapes  are  trod- 
den in  a  wine -press,  and  have  given  forth 
a  heavenly  wine.  Beds  of  long-lingering 
sickness  have  learned  such  thoughts  of 
resignation,  and  such  patient  trust  and 
joy,  that  the  heavenly  book  is  bright 
with  the  footprints  of  their  prayers !  The 
very  silence  of  sickness  is  often  more  full 
of  richest  thoughts  than  all  the  books  of 
earth  have  ever  been  ! 

"  And  when  he  had  taken  the  book, 
the  four  beasts  and  four  and  twenty 
ciders  fell  down  before  the  Lamb,  having 


88  THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR. 

every  one  of  them  harps,  and  golden 
vials  full  of  odors,  ivliicli  are  the  prayers 
of  saints y  And  the  other  magnificence 
of  the  scene  one  may  read  in  the  fifth 
chapter  of  that  gorgeous  book  of  divine 
pictures,  the  Eevelation  of  St.  John ! 
How  remarkable  would  it  seem,  if  it  were 
revealed  to  us  that  there  dwelt  in  the  air 
a  race  of  fine  and  fairy  spirits,  whose 
work  it  was  to  watch  all  flowers  of  the 
earth,  and  catch  their  perfumed  breath 
and  preserve  it  in  golden  vials  for  hea- 
venly use  !  But  how  much  more  grand 
is  the  thought  that,  all  over  the  earth, 
God's  angels  have  caught  the  heart's 
breath,  its  prayers,  and  love,  and  that  in 
heaven  they  are  before  God  like  precious 
odors  poured  from  golden  vases  by  saintly 
hands ! 

The  influences  which  are  at  work  upon 
the  soul  in  such  a  covert  as  the  closet  are 
not  like  the  coarse  stimulants  of  earthly 
thought.  It  is  no  fierce  rivalry,  no  con- 
flict for  victory,  no  hope  of  praise  or  hun- 


THE  GREAT  EXEMPLAR.  89 

ger  of  fame,  tliat  tlirow  lurid  light  upon 
the  mind.  The  soul  rises  to  its  highest 
nature,  and  meets  the  inflnence  that  rests 
upon  it  from  above.  AYhat  is  the  depth 
of  calmness,  what  is  the  vision  of  faith, 
what  is  the  rapture,  the  ecstasy  of  love, 
the  closet  knows  more  grandly  than  any 
other  place  of  human  experience  I 


"  Not  seldom,  clad  in  radiant  vest, 
Deceitfully  goes  forth  the  morn ; 
Not  seldom,  evening  in  the  west, 
Sinks  smilingly  forsworn. 

"  The  smoothest  seas  will  sometimes  prove 
To  tlie  confiding  bark  untrue  ; 
And  if  she  trusts  the  stars  above, 
They  can  be  treacherous  too. 

"  The  umbrageous  oak,  in  pomp  outspread. 
Full  oft  when  storms  the  welkin  rend. 
Draws  lightning  down  upon  the  head 
It  promised  to  defend. 

*'  But  Thou  art  true,  incarnate  Lord  ! 
Who  didst  vouchsafe  for  man  to  die  ; 
Thy  smile  is  sure,  Thy  plighted  word 
No  change  can  falsify. 

*'  I  bent  before  Thy  gracious  throne, 

And  asked  for  peace  with  suppliant  knee  ; 
And  peace  was  given, — nor  peace  alone, 
But  faith  sublimed  to  ecstasy  !" 

"Wordsworth. 


(Utomt  iJoltrls, 


Hebrews  x.  19-23. 

'  Having  therefore,  brethren,  boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest 
by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  by  a  new  and  living  way,  which  he 
hath  consecrated  for  us,  through  the  vail,  that  is  to  say,  his 
flesh  ;  and  having  an  High  Priest  over  the  house  of  God  ;  let 
us  draw  near  with  a  true  heart  in  full  assurance  of  faith, 
having  our  hearts  sprinkled  from  an  evil  conscience,  and 
our  bodies  washed  with  pure  water.  Let  us  hold  fast  the 
profession  of  our  faith  without  wavering  ;  (for  he  is  faithful 
that  promised.)" 

1  John  V.  14,  15. 

'  And  this  is  the  confidence  that  we  have  in  liim,  that,  if  we  ask 
anything  according  to  his  will,  he  heareth  us ;  and  if  we 
know  that  he  hear  us,  whatsoever  we  ask,  we  know  that  we 
have  the  petitions  that  we  desired  of  him." 

Psalm  Ixii.  7,  8. 

•  In  God  is  my  salvation  and  my  glory :  the  rock  of  my  strength, 

and  my  refuge,  is  in  God.  Trust  in  liim  at  all  times ;  ye 
people,  pour  out  your  heart  before  him  ;  God  is  a  refuge  for 
us.    Selah." 

Hebrews  iv.  15,  16. 
For  we  have  not  an  High  Priest  which  cannot  be  touched  with 
the  feeling  of  our  infirmities  ;  but  was  in  all  points  tempted 
like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin.  Let  us  therefore  come  bold- 
ly unto  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy,  and 
find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need." 

John  xiv.  14. 

•  If  ye  shall  ask  any  thing  in  my  name,  I  will  do  it." 


*'  Come,  then,  let  us  hasten  j'onder; 

Here  let  all, 

Great  and  small, 
Kneel  in  awe  and  wonder. 
Love  Him  who  with  love  is  yearning  { 

Hail  the  Star 

That  from  far 
Bright  with  hope  is  burning  ! 

"Ye  who  pine  in  weary  sadness, 

Weep  no  more. 

For  the  door 
Now  is  found  of  gladness  : 
Cling  to  Him,  for  He  will  guide  you 

Where  no  cross, 

Pain  or  loss, 
Can  again  betide  you. 

"  Hither  come,  ye  heavy-hearted  ; 

Who  for  sin. 

Deep  within, 
Long  and  sore  have  smarted  ; 
For  the  poison'd  wounds  j-ou're  feeling 

Help  is  near, 

One  is  here 
Mighty  for  their  healing  ! 

"  Hither  come,  ye  poor  and  wi-etched ; 

Know  His  will 

Is  to  mi 
Every  hand  outstretched ; 
Here  are  riches  without  measure. 

Here  forget 

All  regret, 
Fill  your  hearts  with  treasure." 


*'Qtomt  IJoltrlg  to  tjr  ^f^vont.'' 


MANY  passages  of  tlie  Scripture  are 
like  hundreds  of  wayside  flowers, 
whidi  for  montlis  and  years  are  unno- 
ticed by  us,  simply  because  we  have  been 
accustomed  from  our  childhood  to  see 
them  without  stooping  to  pluck  or  to 
examine  them.  Many  of  the  homeliest 
flowers  would  appear  transcendently  beau- 
tiful if  we  would  take  the  trouble  to  study 
them  minutely,  to  magnify  their  parts, 
and  to  bring  out  their  constituent  ele- 
ments. And  so,  we  were  taught  to  read 
the  Bible  so  early,  in  the  family  and  in 
the  village  school,  and  we  have  so  often 
and  often  walked  along  the  chapters,  that 
we  have  beaten  a  dusty  path  in  them, 
and  some  of  their  most  precious  and 
beautiful  things  are  neither  precious  nor 


94      COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

beautiful  to  us,  simply  because  we  look 
at  tbem  and  not  into  them.  Many  parts 
of  tlie  Bible  may  be  compared  to  those 
exquisite  creations  of  art  which  are  some- 
times found  in  old  cathedrals  ;  they  have 
collected  dust  and  grime  and  weather- 
stains  ;  hundreds  of  persons  go  past  them 
every  day,  never  cleansing  them,  never 
restoring  feature  nor  colour,  nor  bringing 
out  the  artist's  embodied  thought,  so  that 
they  are  quite  unconscious,  till  they  see 
them  restored  in  the  picture  of  some 
book,  or  till  some  enthusiastic  Euskin 
brings  them  out,  and  teaches  us  how 
beautiful  are  the  things  that  we  have 
slighted  as  uncomely.  So  the  Scriptures 
are  often  overlaid,  and,  frequently,  some 
of  the  passages  that  really  are  the  most 
resplendent  are  those  which  seem  only 
common  and  ordinary. 

Just  such  a  passage  is  to  be  found  in 
the  third  chapter  of  the  Ephesians,  in 
which  Paul  says  :  "  For  this  cause  I  bow 
my  knees  unto  the  Father  of  our  Lord 


COME  BO1.DLY  TO  THE  THRONE.     P5 

Jesus  Christ,  of  whom  the  whole  family 
in  heaven  and  earth  is  named,  that  he 
would  grant  you,  according  to  the  riches 
of  his  glory,  to  be  strengthened  with 
might  by  his  Spirit  in  the  inner  man  ; 
that  Christ  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by 
faith  ;  that  ye,  being  rooted  and  ground- 
ed in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend 
with  all  saints  what  is  the  breadth,  and 
length,  and  depth,  and  height ;  and  to 
know  the  love  of  Christ,  which  passeth 
knowledge,  that  ye  might  be  filled  with 
all  the  fulness  of  God."  What  a  passage 
is  this !  But  this  is  not  all.  This  is  a 
prayer ;  and  the  apostle  having  made  a 
prayer  which  few  men  can  climb,  takes  a 
still  higher  flight,  and  says  :  "  Now  unto 
Him  that  is  able  to  do  exceeding  abun- 
dantly above  all  that  we  ask  or  think,  ac- 
cording to  the  power  that  worketh  in  us, 
unto  him  be  glory  in  the  church  by  Christ 
Jesus  throughout  all  ages,  world  without 
end.     Amen." 

These  words  are,  throughout,   a  sub- 


96     GOME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

lime  strain  against  despondency.  Paul 
was  in  prison.  "  For  tHs  cause,"  the 
chapter  begins,  "  I  Paul,  the  prisoner." 
His  design  was  to  present  such  a  view  of 
the  fulness  of  God's  heart,  and  of  the 
grandeur  of  His  administration,  as  should 
be  an  offset  against  any  possible  weak- 
ness, disaster,  overthrow,  or  trouble  in 
life,  to  Christians,  both  as  individuals  and 
as  churches. 

It  is  a  presentation  of  Grod  in  such  a 
light  as  shall  enkindle  praise.  "Now 
unto  Him" — the  very  words  indicate  the 
mood  of  devout  ascription.  He  would 
excite  joy  and  adoration  in  view  of  God's 
royal  generosity  and  large-heartedness. 
The  Divine  generosity  is  measured  not 
only  by  our  wants,  but  by  our  thoughts 
and  desires  above  our  wants,  and  it  equals 
and  transcends  both.  He  is  "  able  to  do 
exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we 
ask  or  think." 

The  word  "  abundance"  expresses  the 
idea  of  more  than  enough.     "  Enough  " 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE.     97 

is  a  measuring  word.  It  is  the  complete 
filling  of  a  given  measure.  It  satisfies 
the  demand.  It  just  equals  the  want. 
But  "  abundance"  is  something  over  and 
above.  It  is  "  enough  and  to  spare."  A 
handful  of  berries  or  dried  fruits  given  to 
a  pilgrim  who  is  ready  to  perish  of  hun- 
ger, might  be  enough  to  stay  his  strength 
and  satisfy  his  appetite ;  but  if,  instead 
of  this,  the  kind  heart  of  sympathy  should 
throw  open  the  garden  gate  and  the  or- 
chard, and  say  to  him,  ''Go  in,  pluck 
and  eat,"  even  when  the  lively  appetite 
had  sated  itself  upon  the  nearest  fruits, 
there  would  still  be  on  every  bush  and 
bough,  in  hundreds  of  rows  and  ranks, 
throughout  the  garden  and  the  orchard, 
multitudes  of  kinds  and  the  utmost  abun- 
dance in  quantity,  of  sweet  and  delicious 
fruits,  which  he  could  not  begin  to  eat 
nor  even  to  taste.  In  the  one  case  he 
would  have  simply  "enough,"  in  the 
other  "  abundance." 

Saith   the  armourer,   "  I  will   not  be 


98     C03IE  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

wasteful,"  and  lie  uses  steel  with  an 
economic  eye  in  forging  tlie  blade ;  and 
the  smith  measures  his  iron  for  each  pur- 
pose. So  he  that  pays  a  debt  at  the  bank 
lays  down  the  exact  amount  to  a  penny, 
but  no  more.  The  apothecary  takes  the 
physician's  prescription,  and  weighing  it 
out,  allows  himself  no  generosity  in  mea- 
suring the  ingredients  of  the  medicine, 
but  puts  it  up  by  drachms  and  scruples 
with  rigid  exactitude.  God  does  not  so 
measure  in  creating,  or  in  sustaining,  or 
in  administering.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
thought  of  God  which  the  apostle  con- 
veys, is  that  of  a  Being  of  magnificent 
richness,  who  does  everything  in  over- 
measure.  The  whole  Divine  character 
and  administration,  the  whole  conception 
of  God  set  forth  in  the  Bible  and  in  na- 
ture, is  of  a  Being  of  magnificence  and 
munificence^  of  abundance  and  supera- 
bundance. D  id  you  ever  take  th  e  troub  1  c 
to  look  at  a  lazy  bank  that  bears  nothing 
for  itself?     It  has  no  trees  growing  out  of 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE.      90 

it  for  grateful  shade,  and  no  vines  witli 
cooling  clusters,  and  no  grass  wliicli  lierds 
may  browse  upon,  and  no  flowers  that  lap 
over  it,  and  yet  the  hair  of  ten  thousand 
reeds  will  be  combed  upon  "its  brow,  and 
it  will  be  spotted  and  patched  with  moss, 
of  ten  thousand  patterns  of  exquisite 
beauty,  so  that  any  artist  who,  in  all  his 
life,  should  produce  one  such  thing,  would 
make  himself  a  master-spirit  in  art,  and 
immortal  in  fame.  God's  least  thought 
in  the  barrenest  places  of  nature  is  more 
prolific  than  man's  greatest  abundance. 
God  is  a  Being  of  great  thoughts,  great 
feelings,  great  actions.  Whenever  He 
does  anything,  He  never  does  it  narrow- 
ly, certainly  not  meanly.  He  never  cuts 
out  such  a  pattern,  and  then  works  up  to 
it  with  even  edge.  He  is  a  royal  Creator, 
who  says  to  the  earth,  ^'Let  it  swarm 
abundantly,"  and  to  the  sea,  "Let  it  be 
endlessly  filled."  He  touches  the  sand  of 
the  shore,  and  it  stands  forth  as  a  repre- 
Bentative  of  the  abundance  of  His  thouarht. 


100    COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

He  spreads  out  the  heavens,  and  no  man 
can  count  the  fiery  stars.  He  orders  the 
seasons,  and  thej  all  speak  in  their  end- 
less procession  of  this  one  thought  of  God 
— His  everlasting  abundance ! 

But  "abundance"  is  a  relative  word. 
What  is  abundance  for  a  wayfarer  is  not 
abundance  for  a  shepherd.  What  was 
abundant  for  a  nomad,  a  wandering  shep- 
herd, would  not  be  for  a  settled  farmer, 
with  crops  and  stock,  with  barns  and 
houses.  But  what  is  abundant  for  a 
farmer,  would  not  be  for  a  merchant; 
and  what  is  abundant  for  a  merchant 
would  be  very  sparse  and  scant  for  a 
prince  ;  and  even  among  princes  there  is 
great  difference  of  degree.  The  abun- 
dance of  a  German  prince  would  be  pov- 
erty for  the  court  of  the  royal  Czar. 
Now,  put  the  word,  with  its  relative  and 
increased  significance,  upon  God.  Divine 
abundance  !  The  fulness  of  God !  It  is 
not  in  the  power  of  man  to  conceive  it ! 
If  God  might  be  supposed  to  have  worked 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THROXE.    101 

narrowly  anywhere  it  would  be  on  the 
earth,  His  footstool.  But  the  earth  is  in- 
finitely full  of  God's  thought.  And  yet, 
great  as  the  earth  is  absolutely,  it  is  rela- 
tively little,  and  all  symbols  and  figures 
drawn  from  earthly  things  stop  on  this 
side  of  the  Divine  idea  of  abundance. 

But  the  apostle  says,  "  Now  unto  Him 
that  is  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly." 
What  a  vision  he  must  have  had  !  How 
grandly  in  that  moment  did  the  divine 
though  rise  before  his  enrapt  mind,  when 
he  so  linked  words  together,  seeking  by 
combinations  to  express  what  no  one 
word  had  the  power  to  flash  forth.  He 
could  not  by  the  mightiest  single  word 
express  his  own  thought  and  feeling,  and 
so  he  joined  golden  word  with  golden 
w^ord,  as  if  he  fain  would  encompass  it 
with  a  chain  I 

But  Paul  employs  a  measure  of  com- 
j^arison  even  over  and  above  all  this: 
"  above  all  that  we  can  ask  or  think.'' 
That  is,  above  the  measure  of  all  human 


102    COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

aspirations.  How  much  can  a  man  ask 
or  think?  When  the  deepest  convic- 
tions of  sin  are  upon  him,  in  his  hour  of 
deep  despondency,  in  critical  and  trying 
circumstances,  when  fears  come  upon  his 
soul  as  storms  came  on  the  lake  of  Gralilee, 
consider  how  much  a  man  would  then 
ask,  and  how  much  more  think !  Or, 
when  love  swells  every  vein  in  his  soul, 
and  makes  life  as  full  as  mountains  make 
the  streams  in  spring-time,  and  hope  is 
the  sun  by  day  and  the  moon  by  night, 
in  those  gloriously  elate  hours  in  which 
he  seems  no  longer  fixed  to  space  and 
time,  but,  springing  as  if  the  body  were 
forgotten  by  the  soul,  wings  his  way 
through  the  realms  of  aspiration  and  con- 
ception, consider  how  much  a  man  then 
thinks  I 

All  books  are  dry  and  tame  compar- 
ed with  that  great  unwritten  book  pray- 
ed in  the  closet.  The  prayers  of  exiles ! 
The  prayers  of  martyrs!  The  prayers 
of  missionaries !      The   prayers  of    the 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE.    103 

"Waldenses !  The  prayers  of  the  Albi- 
genses !  The  prayers  of  the  Covenant- 
ers! The  sighs,  the  groans,  the  inarti- 
culate cries  of  suffering  men,  whom  ty- 
rants have  buried  alive  in  dungeons  — 
whom  the  world  may  forget,  but  God 
never !  If  some  angel,  catching  them  as 
they  were  uttered,  should  drop  them 
down  from  heaven,  what  a  liturgy  they 
would  make  !  Can  any  epic  equal  those 
unwritten  words  that  pour  into  the  ear 
of  God  out  of  the  heart's  fulness  ! 

Still  more,  what  epic  can  equal  the  un- 
spoken words,  that  never  find  the  lip, 
but  go  up  to  heaven  in  unutterable  long- 
ings and  aspirations  I  Words  are  but 
the  bannerets  of  a  great  army ;  thoughts 
are  the  main  body  of  the  footmen. 
Words  show  here  and  there  a  little 
gleam  in  the  air,  but  the  great  multitude 
of  thoughts  march  unseen  below.  Words 
cannot  follow  aspiration  even  in  its 
tamer  flights ;  still  less  when  it  takes 
wings   and  flies   upward,  borne   by  the 


104    COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

breath  of  God's  Holy  Spirit.  I  see  the 
gulls  from  my  window  day  by  day, 
making  circuits  against  the  north  wind. 
They  mount  up  above  the  masts  of  ves- 
sels in  the  stream,  and  then  suddenly 
drop  almost  to  the  water's  edge,  flying- 
first  in  one  direction  and  then  in  another, 
that  they  may  find  some  eddy  unob- 
structed by  that  steady-blowing  blast, 
until  they  turn  finally  with  the  wind,  and 
then  like  a  gleam  of  light  their  white 
wings  flash  down  the  bay  faster  than  any 
eye  can  follow  them !  So  when  men's 
aspirations  are  borne  by  some  divine  wind 
towards  heaven,  they  take  swift  upward 
flight,  and  no  words  can  follow  them ! 

Consider  what  a  soul  thinks  in  yearn- 
ings for  itself,  and  in  yearnings  even 
more  for  others ;  what  a  saint  thinks  in 
hours  of  vision  and  aspiration,  when  he 
reflects  how  all  his  life  long,  through 
good  report  and  through  evil  report, 
through  manifold  trials  of  temper,  of 
mindj  of  feeling,  in  his  family  and  out, 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE.    105 

the  hand  of  Grod  has  led  him  every  day, 
and  his  cup  has  been  filled  to  overflow- 
ing ;  consider  what  a  dying  man  thinks 
in  view  of  death  and  of  judgment  and 
immortality  awaiting  him  beyond  the 
grave !  What  wonderful  thoughts  ! 
What  wonderful  feelings  !  And  yet  the 
apostle's  measurement  is  more  than  all 
these,  for  he  says :  "N'ow  unto  him  that 
is  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above 
all  that  we  ask  or  think  !"  How  true  it 
is  that  God's  riches  are  unsearchable ! 

This  is  the  idea  of  God  toward  which 
men  ought  always  to  repent.  It  is  some- 
times supposed  that  repentance  is  drudg- 
ery. It  is  drudgery  in  a  mean  man,  but 
in  no  one  else.  There  is  a  kind  of  mean 
repentance  that  needs  to  be  repented  of. 
But  when  a  child  knows  that  his  miscon- 
duct has  really  hurt  a  loving  parent,  the 
child  is  more  j)ained  than  the  parent. 
When  a  noble  sjDirit  has  done  wrong  to 
a  friend,  through  some  misunderstanding 
that  has  sprung  up  between  them,  such 


106  COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THROVE. 

man  demands  the  liberty  of  restoring  a 
himself  more  tlian  tlie  other  demands 
that  he  shall  restore  himself.  When,  we 
have  injured  a  friend,  it  is  our  privilege 
to  make  it  good.  It  is  necessary  to  our 
thought  of  manhood  that  we  should  re- 
pair a  wrong  done.  How  much  more 
when  we  have  wronged  Christ,  our  Elder 
Brother,  our  Redeemer,  our  Friend,  our 
joy  and  our  comfort,  should  we  make 
haste  to  repent  —  not  as  a  duty,  but  as  a 
sweet  privilege  ;  not  with  the  thought 
that  our  repentance  is  a  necessity  made 
so  by  Him,  but  made  necessary  by  our 
own  honour  and  conscience  ?  To  sit  down 
in  a  corner,  and  to  cry  so  much,  and  to 
feel  so  bad,  and  to  mourn  so  long,  is  not 
repentance.  Trae  rejoentance  springs 
out  of  the  most  generous  feelings  of  a 
Christian  heart.  It  is  a  man's  better  na- 
ture triumphing  over  his  lower  and 
meaner.  A  Christian  should  never  say, 
"I  must  repent^"  but,  "Let  me  repent." 
It  is  the  goodness  of  God  that  should 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE.    107 

lead  us  to  repentance,  not  His  justice  and 
His  terrors.  Many  persons  suppose  that 
God  sits  on  the  throne  of  the  heavens  as 
storm-clouds  that  float  in  summer  skies, 
full  of  bolts  and  lightnings ;  and  they  are 
either  repelled,  or  they  think  they  must 
come  to  Him  under  the  covert  of  some 
excuse.  But  repentance  ought  to  lead 
US  to  God  as  toward  light,  toward  sum- 
mer, toward  heaven  made  glorious  with 
His  presence,  toward  His  everlasting 
goodness.  His  eye  is  not  dark  with 
vengeance,  nor  His  heart  turbulent  witli 
wrath,  and  to  repent  toward  His  justice 
and  vindictiveness  must  be  always  from 
a  lower  motive  than  toward  His  generos- 
ity and  His  love. 

It  is  with  such  a  conception  of  God 
that  Christians  should  come  before  Him 
with  their  wants.  It  is  a  glorious  com- 
fort that  God's  love  is  as  infinite  as  His 
power.  We  are  all  apt  to  think  of  His 
jjower  as  infinite,  and  we  call  Him  omnipo- 
tent;  but  we  too  often  forget  that  His 


108   COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

love  also  is  infinite.  It  has  no  end,  no 
measure,  no  bound.  A  man's  generous 
feelings  are  often  like  the  buds  at  this 
season  of  the  year  —  wrapped  up  in  cov- 
erings to  keep  them  from  the  selfishness 
and  coldness  of  the  world.  By  and  b}^ 
they  may  burst  out  and  bloom,  yet  now 
they  are  circumscribed.  But  we  do  not 
have  in  ourselves  the  measure  of  the  love 
of  God.  How  base  it  is,  then,  when  we 
have  some  gift  to  ask  of  Him,  to  go  with 
shrinking  confidence  and  with  piteous 
look,  as  though  there  were  need  of  im- 
portunity. Is  it  possible,  if  with  men  "  it 
is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive," 
that  it  is  not  infinitely  more  with  God  ? 
To  a  true  Christian  heart,  next  to  the 
pain  of  being  unable  to  do  for  those  who 
are  in  want,  is  the  pleasure  of  being  ap- 
proached by  them,  when  we  have  it  in 
our  povfer  to  help  them.  Is  it  not  the 
same,  and  in  an  infinitely  higher  degree 
with  God  ?  The  happiest  being  in  the 
universe  is  God,  because  He  has  an  in- 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE.  109 

finite  desire  of  benevolence,  and  infinite 
means  of  gratifying  it.  There  is  with 
Him  no  limitation,  either  of  heart  or 
hand. 

Such  a  view  of  God,  habitually  taken, 
will  deliver  us  from  unworthy  fears,  and 
will  inspire  in  us  great  boldness  of  ap- 
proach, and  access  with  confidence,  unto 
the  throne  of  His  grace.  It  will  tend  to 
comfort  Christians  who  are  in  despond- 
ency respecting  their  rectitude  through 
life,  their  victory  in  death,  and  their  glo- 
rification in  heaven  ;  for  these  things  are 
thus  made  to  stand,  not  in  a  Christian's 
feeble  desire  for  them,  but  on  God's  in- 
finite desire  and  abundant  grace.  When 
stars,  first  created,  start  forth  upon  their 
vast  circuits,  not  knowing  their  way,  if 
they  were  conscious  and  sentient,  they 
might  feel  hopeless  of  maintaining  their 
revolutions  and  orbits,  and  might  despair 
in  the  face  of  coming  ages !  But,  with- 
out hands  or  arms,  the  sun  holds  them  ! 
Without  cords  or  bands,  the  solar  king 


110  COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE. 

drives'  them  unliarnessed  on  their  mighty 
rounds  without  a  single  misstep,  and  will 
bring  them  in  the  end  to  their  bound, 
without  a  single  wanderer.  But  the  sun 
is  but  a  thing,  itself  driven  and  held ; 
and  shall  not  He,  who  created  the  hea- 
vens, and  appointed  all  the  stars  to  their 
places,  and  gave  the  sun  his  power,  be 
able  to  hold  you  by  the  attraction  of  His 
heart,  the  strength  of  His  hands,  and  the 
omnipotence  of  His  affectionate  will  ? 

It  is  this  view  of  God  that  the  apos- 
tles taught.  "We  read  it  on  every  page 
of  Paul  and  Peter  and  James  and  John 
—  everywhere  in  the  New  Testament. 
What  was  the  beginning?  "Peace  on 
earth,  good- will  to  men !"  And  what 
was  the  last  word  that  was  heard  ringing 
through  the  air  before  the  message  was 
sealed,  and  the  vision  failed  ?  "  The 
Spirit  and  the  bride  say.  Come  ;  let  him 
that  heareth  say.  Come ;  let  him  that  is 
athirst  come  ;  and  whosoever  will,  let  him 
come  and  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 


COME  BOLDLY  TO  THE  THRONE.  Ill 

Whosoever  will  !  That  is  tlie  Alpha 
and  the  Omega !  That  is  the  beginning 
and  the  ending !  That  is  the  offer  ;  that 
is  the  promise.  And  what  shall  be  the 
response  of  every  Christian  heart,  if  it  be 
not  those  final  and  sublimest  words  of 
the  great  Eevelator,  "Even  so,  Lord 
Jesus,  come  quickly  I" 


*•  All  eyes  do  wait  on  Thee,  0  Lord, 

Who  keepest  us  from  dearth, 
Who  scatterest  rich  supplies  abroad 

For  all  the  wants  of  earth  ; 
Thou  openest  oft  Thy  bounteous  hand, 
And  all  in  sea,  and  air,  and  land, 

Are  fiU'd  with  food  and  mirth. 

"  Thy  thoughts  are  good,  and  Thou  art  kind, 

E'en  when  we  think  it  not ; 
How  many  an  anxious,  faithless  mind 

Sits  grieving  o'er  its  lot. 
And  frets  and  pines  by  day  and  night, 
As  God  had  lost  it  out  of  sight, 

And  all  its  wants  forgot ! 

"  Ah,  no  !    God  ne'er  forgets  His  own. 

His  heart  is  far  too  true ; 
He  ever  seeks  their  good  alone, 

His  love  is  daily  new  ; 
And  though  thou  deem  that  things  go  ill. 
Yet  He,  in  all  He  doeth,  still 

Is  holy,  just,  and  true. 

•'  The  Lord  to  them  is  ever  nigh 
Who  truly  keep  His  word ; 
Whene'er  in  faith  to  Him  they  cry, 

Their  prayer  is  surely  heard. 
He  knoweth  well  who  love  Him  well — 
His  love  shall  yet  their  clouds  dispel, 
And  grant  the  hope  deferr'd." 

Lyra  Germanica. 


m)t  <^copc  of  i^tasttt. 


Philippians  iv.  6. 

■  Be  careful  for  nothing ;  but  in  every  thing  by  prayer  and  sup- 

plication with  thanksgiving  let  your  requests  be  made  known 
unto  God." 

James  v.  16. 

Pray  one  for  another,  that  ye  may  be  healed.    The  effectual 
fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous  man  availeth  much." 

Isaiah  xUii.  25,  26. 
I,  even  I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgressions  for  mine 
own  sake,  and  will  not  remember  thy  sins.     Put  me  in  re- 
membrance :  let  us  plead  together  :  declare  thou,  that  thou 
maj-est  be  justified," 

Job  v.  S-10- 

■  I  would  seek  unto  God,  and  unto  God  would  I  commit  my 

cause :  which  doeth  great  things  and  unsearchable  ;  marvel- 
lous things  without  number :  who  giveth  rain  upon  the  earth, 
and  sendeth  waters  upon  the  fields." 

Psalm  cxxi. 

■  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence  cometh 

my  help.  My  help  cometh  from  the  Lord,  which  made 
heaven  and  earth.  He  will  not  suffer  thy  foot  to  be  moved  : 
he  that  keepeth  thee  will  not  slumber.  Behold ,  he  that  keep- 
eth  Israel  shall  neither  slumber  nor  sleep.  The  Lord  is  thy 
keeper  :  the  Lord  is  thy  shade  upon  thy  right  hand.  Tlie  sun 
shall  not  smite  thee  by  day,  nor  the  moon  by  night.  The 
Lord  shall  preserve  thee  from  all  evil :  he  shall  preserve  thy 
soul.  The  Lord  shall  preserve  thy  going  out  and  thy  coming 
m  from  this  time  forth,  and  even  for  evermore." 


"  Art  thou  a  pilgrim,  and  alone  ? 
Far  from  the  home  once  call'd  thine  own  ? 
From  friendship's  faithful  bosom  wrested, 
In  strangers'  hands  thy  comforts  vested, 
Thy  life  a  cheerless  winter  day, 
Unlit  by  sunshine  ?    Rise  and  pray  ! 

"  Smiled  on  thee  once  the  bliss  of  earth. 
And  glittering  joys  of  transient  worth  ? 
Hast  thou  adored  some  idol  shrine, 
Or  bent  has  many  a  knee  at  thine  ? 
Faded  these  creatures  of  a  day. 
What  hast  thou  left  ?    Arise  and  pray  ! 

"  Or  hast  thou,  driven  by  deepest  woe, 
Thy  soul's  sure  refuge  learn'd  to  know  ? 
And  every  storm  of  life  would  meet 
Beneath  the  sheltering  Mercy-Seat  ? 
Whether  in  youth  or  life's  decay, 
Thy  lot  is  blest — thou  lovest  to  pray  ! 

"  But  haply  thou,  even  thou  hast  found 
Religion's  consecrated  ground 
With  sorrows  and  with  snares  beset ; 
Which,  though  the  almighty  Sufferer  met 
To  conquer,  we  must  yet  obey 
His  welcome  mandate — Rise  and  pray  ! 

"Even  should  that  direst  hour  be  thine, 
When  in  the  darkening  heavens  no  sign 
Appears — but  thou  in  combat  fell, 
ISIust  meet  the  adverse  hosts  of  hell, 
Oh  never  cast  the  hope  away, 
While  thou  canst  lift  thy  heart  to  pray ! 

♦'  With  tears,  with  bitterest  agony, 
The  Saviour  wrestled,  soul !  for  thee 
Ere  He  could  all-triumphant  rise 
To  plead  the  accepted  sacrifice ; 
So,  till  the  world  shall  pass  away, 
Shall  stand  His  words—'  Arise  and  pray  !' " 

E.M- 


^f\t  Scope  of  Ptaser. 


AISTE  may  perceive  at  a  glance  how 
^  exceedingly  wide  is  tlie  scope  of 
prayer. 

It  will  begin  with  a  supplication  for 
our  temporal  wants.  These  are  first  felt, 
and  felt  longest ;  and  by  the  greatest 
number  of  the  world  felt  chiefly.  Next 
higher  will  come  petitions  for  relief  from 
trouble,  for  remedy,  for  shelter  in  dan- 
ger. In  this,  too,  the  soul  may  exercise 
its  own  liberty ;  there  are  no  metes  nor 
bounds.  Then,  next,  prayer  is  drawn 
forth  by  heart-sorrow.  A  wounded 
spirit,  a  bruised  heart,  naturally  turns 
for  confidence  and  soothing  towards 
Grod.  Its  prayer  may  be  supplication 
for  help,  or  it  may  be  only  recitation 
for  the  sake  of  "oeace.     Kext,  and  far 


116         THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER. 

higher,  ^t^jqy  becomes  the  resource  of 
a  heart  exercised  for  its  own  religious 
growth.  It  is  the  cry  for  help  against 
temptation.  It  is  the  voice  of  confes- 
sion. It  is  a  recital  of  sins  committed, 
and  a  plaint  of  sorrow  for  them.  It  is 
the  soul's  liberty  to  go  to  its  Father 
with  all  its  growing  pains,  its  labour 
and  travail  in  spiritual  things.  Prayer, 
also,  to  one  who  lives  in  the  daily  serv- 
ice of  God,  oftentimes  takes  the  form 
of  simple  communion,  the  spreading  out 
of  our  life  to  one  who  is  worthy,  whom 
we  love  and  trust,  not  for  the  sake  of 
any  special  advice,  nor  for  the  sake  of 
special  help,  but  for  the  heart-rest  which 
there  is  in  the  thing  itself.  For  none 
love  confidences  so  much  as  they  who 
rarely  have  them.  None  love  to  speak 
so  much,  when  the  mood  of  speaking 
comes,  as  they  who  are  naturally  taci- 
turn. None  love  to  lean  and  recline 
entirely  upon  another  so  much  as  strong 
natures  that  ordinarily  do  not  lean  at 


THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER.         117 

all.  And  so  tlie  lieart  that  goes  shaded 
and  shut,  that  hides  its  thoughts  and 
dreads  the  knowledge  of  men's  eyes, 
flings  itself  wide  open  to  the  eye  of  God. 
Thus,  I  have  sat  down  within  the 
green  wood,  and  while  men  were  pass- 
ing, feet  tramping,  and  voices  shouting, 
everything  in  the  boughs  and  among 
the  leaves  hid  itself.  But  after  the 
noise  had  died  out,  sitting  still  and  mo- 
tionless as  the  tree  I  leaned  against,  I 
have  heard  a  sweet  note  sounded  near 
me;  then  a  brief  response  from  yonder 
bush ;  a  bird  had  hopped  down  upon 
the  leaves,  squirrels  had  come  forth  lithe 
and  merry ;  and  in  a  few  moments  all 
the  secrets  and  confidences  of  sylvan 
shades  were  revealed  to  me.  And  thus 
it  is  in  the  soul  that  shuts  itself  and 
holds  its  peace  while  the  world  is  near, 
but  grows  securer  in  silence  of  contem- 
plation, and  lets  out  its  gentle  thoughts 
and  whispering  joys,  its  hopes  or  sad 
fears,  unto  the  listening  ear  and  before 
the  kindly  eye  of  God  ! 


118         THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER. 

But  in  sonls  whicli  have  caught  some- 
thing of  the  beauty  of  the  divine  life, 
prayer  in  many  of  its  moods  becomes 
more  than  this.  There  are  times  of 
yearning  and  longing,  far  beyond  the 
help  of  the  most  hopeful.  There  is  a 
prayer  which  is  the  voice  of  the  soul 
pleading  its  birthright,  crying  out  for 
its  immortality ;  it  is  heavenly  home- 
sickness ! 

There  are  times,  too,  of  great  joys 
and  gratitudes — times  in  which  nothing 
is  so  congenial  as  to  express  the  soul's 
thoughts  of  gladness,  its  spiritual  gaiety. 
In  some  lovely  morning  of  sjDring,  after 
days  of  storm  have  made  nature  mute — 
when  the  bright,  warm  dawning  comes 
—  can  any  man  tell  what  it  is  or  why 
it  is  that  birds  are  wild  with  ecstatic 
song,  and  sit  singing  with  perpetual 
warbling?  Can  any  man  tell  why  it 
iS  that  they  fly  singing,  turn  and  wheel 
in  the  air  with  every  fantastic  gyration, 
or  briskly  leap  from  bough  to  bough, 


THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER.         119 

and  twig  to  twig,  or  sportively  whirl 
in  a  feathery  fury  of  mingled  delight, 
a  hundred  voices  crossing  and  mingling, 
with  strange  melody  of  dissonance? 
And  can  any  man,  then,  give  a  square 
and  solid  reason  for  those  experiences 
that  sometimes  come  to  all  —  and  that 
come  often  to  some,  when  thoughts  are 
high  and  imaginations  divinely  radiant, 
and  the  affections  full  of  vibrations  of 
joy,  and  the  whole  soul  is  full  of  rising 
gladness,  gratitude,  happiness,  and,  at 
times,  ecstasies?  Have  you  never  felt 
this?  I  am  sorry  for  the  man  that 
has  not !  One  day,  one  hour,  of  such 
peaceful  joy,  were  worth  a  year  of  com- 
mon pleasure ! 

But  the  soul  does  not  always  live 
willingly  with  itself  There  is  a  privi- 
lege of  sympathy  with  God  which  shall 
bring  us  hours  of  most  serene  delight. 
It  is  the  privilege  of  God's  people  to 
come  into  such  spiritual  relationship 
with  Him  that  they  shall  have  medita- 


120         THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER. 

tions,  almost  visions,  of  the  Divine  good- 
ness and  glorj,  which,  will  take  away 
from  them  all  thought  of  self- worth  or 
demerit,  of  joy  or  sorrow,  of  thrift  or 
adversity ;  and  will  fill  them  with  over- 
powering gladness  for  the  greatness  and 
the  glory  of  God !  As  one  who  stands 
before  some  magnificence  of  nature,  or 
in  the  presence  of  some  stupendous 
marvel,  or  before  an  outspread  and 
glorious  work  of  art,  or  in  a  cathedral 
full  of  dreamy  beauty,  or  within  a 
gallery  of  paintings,  where  there  is  a 
perfect  wilderness  of  colours  and  forms, 
as  if  there  were  as  many  as  there  are 
flowers  in  the  wilderness ;  —  as  persons 
amid  such  surroundings  are  utterly  un- 
conscious of  self,  and  forgetful  whether 
they  are  in  the  body  or  out  of  it, 
whether  rich' or  poor,  whether  in  trouble 
or  in  joy,  but  are  carried  quite  out  of 
themselves,  and  made  to  dwell  in  the 
realm  and  glory  of  the  scene  before 
them;  so,  and  much  more,  is  it  in  the 


THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER.         121 

power  of  God  to  open  sucli  views  of 
Himself  to  the  soul,  as  to  fill  and  over- 
flow its  capacity,  and  to  make  its  life, 
for  the  time,  a  life  beyond  the  body — 
a  life  that  goes  forth,  as  it  were,  out 
of  doors,  and  mounts  up  to  the  very 
heavens,  and  stands  before  the  eternal 
glory  of  Love,  and  among  the  radiant 
multitudes  in  the  endless  processions 
of  heavenly  hosts  that  are  for  ever 
praising  God  1 

Who  shall  lay  tax  upon  the  tongue 
or  upon  the  thoughts  in  such  glorious 
visions  as  these  ?  Who  shall  criticise 
or  regulate  the  prayer  that  springs  from 
such  experiences  as  these?  Let  a  man 
arrogantly  teach  rain  how  to  &11,  or 
clouds  how  to  shape  themselves,  and 
with  what  paces  to  march  their  airy 
rounds,  or  the  season  how  to  plant,  and 
tend,  and  garner ;  but  let  him  not  teach 
a  soul  how  to  pray,  upon  whom  the 
Holy  Ghost  thus  broods  and  breathes ! 

They  to  whom  is  given  such  commun- 


122  THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER. 

ion  cannot  but  bear  the  burden  of  the 
Lord  in  earthly  things.  Christ's  cause 
and  glorj^  in  the  salvation  of  souls  will 
oftentimes  move  their  prayers  with  deep 
and  inexhaustible  desires.  They  may 
not  seek  such  experiences.  They  do 
not  come  by  common  asking.  They  are 
given  to  them  who  are  one  with  Christ ; 
who  have  entered  into  such  sympathy 
with  God,  that  they  must  needs  bear 
His  cross  and,  as  it  were,  be  crucified 
for  sinners. 

And,  in  like  manner,  God  makes  His 
servants  to  bear  the  burden  of  God's 
cause  on  earth  at  large ;  so  that,  at  times, 
the  desires,  the  yearnings  and  prayers 
for  the  prosperity  of  Zion  will  be  almost 
more  than  flesh  can  bear ;  so  that,  in 
the  expressive  language  of  Scripture, 
they  travail  in  birth  for  God's  work  on 
earth ! 

There  are  yet  other  modes  of  prayer ; 
but  who  shall  frame  words  to  express 
what  that  communion  is  which  the  soul 


THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER.         123 

holds  wlieD;  in  tlie  fulness  of  its  own 
feeling,  it  overflows  with  praises?  It 
is  apparent  how  great  is  the  folly  of 
those  who  decry  prayer  as  being  useless, 
inasmuch  as  God  knows  what  we  need 
— as  if  asking  for  enjoyable  things  is 
all  that  a  soul  does  in  prayer.  What 
if  a  man  should  have  an  idea  as  ignoble 
as  this  of  sounds  and  space,  and  should 
say  that  no  words  or  sounds  are  sensi- 
ble, or  of  any  value  and  desirableness, 
except  such  as  articulate  well-defl.ned 
wants  ;  as  if  they  were  of  no  use  in  ex- 
clamations of  gladness,  in  tones  and 
words  of  joy,  in  the  mazes  and  tropical 
exuberance  of  love,  in  the  sweet  endear- 
ments of  friendship ;  as  if  they  were  of 
no  use  in  music,  in  shouts  of  gladness, 
and,  in  short,  in  any  utterance  except 
those  for  servile  uses  1 

With  regard  to  forms  of  prayer,  these 
may  be  of  use,  and  are  proper  to  be 
used  by  all  who  need  them ;  but  they 
can  never  include   the   whole   of    that 


124  THE  SCOPE  OF  PRAYER 

utterance  wliicli  tlie  soul  should  express 
to  God  in  prayer. 

Some  persons  are  often  troubled  re- 
specting familiarity  and  irreverence  in 
prayer.  But  it  should  be  remembered 
by  sucli  that  the  confidence  of  love  is 
not  irreverence.  God  permits  His  peo- 
ple to  plead  with  Him,  and  to  pour  out 
their  confidence  freely.  The  exhortation 
is  explicit,  "  Let  us  come  loldly  to  the 
throne  of  grace." 

Some  are  discouraged  when,  after  con- 
tinued communion  with  God,  they  do 
not  find  any  such  range  and  progression 
in  prayer.  To  pray  is,  to  many,  like 
speakiug  a  new  and  foreign  language. 
It  must  be  learned.  One  is  not  sur- 
prised that  a  foreign  tongue  is  slowly 
and  brokenly  spoken  at  first.  Prayer 
gains  in  scope  and  richness  as  the  ele- 
ments of  spirituality  increase  and  the 
habit  of  expression  is  formed. 


^Je  ^iTr  of  tfit  .Spirit 


Romans  viii.  26. 
*'  Likewise  the  Spirit  also  helpeth  our  infirmities  :  for  we  know 
not  what  we  should  pray  for  as  we  ought :    but  the  Spirit 
itself  maketh  intercession  for  us  with  groanings  which  can- 
not be  uttered." 

Romans  viii.  15. 
*'For  ye  have  not  received  the  spirit  of  bondage  again  to  fear; 
but  ye  have  received  the  Spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  we  cry, 
Abba,  Father." 


'  The  prayers  I  make  will  then  be  svreet  indeed, 
If  Thou  the  Spirit  give  by  which  I  pray ; 
My  unassisted  heart  is  barren  clay, 
That  of  its  native  self  can  nothing  feed  ; 
Of  good  and  pious  works  Thou  art  the  seed, 
That  quickens  only  where  Thou  say'st  it  may. 
Unless  Thou  shew  to  us  Thy  own  true  way, 
No  man  can  find  it.     Father !  Thou  must  lead. 
Do  Thou,  then,  breathe  those  thoughts  into  my  mind 
By  which  such  virtue  may  in  me  be  bred, 
That  in  Thy  holy  footsteps  I  may  tread ; 
The  fetters  of  my  tongue  do  Thou  unbind. 
That  I  may  have  the  power  to  sing  to  Thee  ! 
And  sound  thy  praises  everlastingly." 

Wordsworth. 


rije  ^lU  of  tf)0  cSpirit, 


17YE]Sr  a  glance  of  the  sun  is  clieering, 
^  in  a  day  of  storms,  or  of  clouds, 
which,  without  storming,  fill  the  air  with 
sullenness,  and  make  twilight  even  at 
noon-day.  But  what  is  this  compared  with 
the  brightness  of  the  unobstructed  sun  all 
the  day  long,  filling  the  air  above,  overlay- 
ing the  earth,  and  jDOuring  gold  upon 
every  tree,  stone,  or  house,  until  the  eye 
shrinks  for  very  brightness ! 

But  the  sunlight  of  a  single  day  briogs 
forth  nothing.  Such  days  come  in  De- 
cember, in  January,  and  amid  the  bois- 
terous weeks  of  February  and  the  tumult 
of  March.  But  nothing  springs  up.  The 
tree  makes  no  growth.  The  light  does 
not  enter  in.  It  lies  wide  abroad,  indeed 
most  beautiful,  but  nothing  is  created  by 


128        THE  AID    OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

it;  for  burnislied  icicles  and  frost-drops 
are  the  onlj  stems  and  flowers  which 
come  from  the  slant  and  cold  brightness 
of  the  winter's  sun. 

It  is  only  when,  at  length,  the  sun  re- 
turns from  its  equatorial  pilgrimage,  and 
enters  into  the  earth,  and  abides  within 
it,  that  life  is  awakened.  The  earth 
knows  his  coming.  In  winter,  nature 
lies  as  if  dead.  The  sun  stretches  itself 
upon  it,  as  did  the  prophet  upon  tlie 
woman's  son,  and  from  every  part  there 
is  resurrection  of  root,  stem,  bud,  and 
flower.  But  none  of  these  things  happen 
to  casual  and  infrequent  shining.  They 
are  the  fruit  of  indwelling  heat.  Not  till 
the  sun  enters  in,  and  abides  in  the  soil, 
not  till  days  and  nights  are  struck  through 
with  warmth,  is  there  life  and  glory. 

If  this  be  so  of  the  lower  physical  na- 
ture, how  much  more  eminently  it  is  true 
of  the  human  soul,  and  of  its  Sun  of 
Eighteousness !  It  is  a  gladsome  thing 
in  toil  and  trouble  to  have  a  single  bright 


THE  AID    OF    THE   SPIRIT.        129 

flash  from  the  face  of  God.  A  prisoner 
ill  a  dungeon  may  have  but  one  small 
window,  and  that  far  up,  and  out  of  the 
way  of  the  sun,  while  for  months  and 
months  not  one  single  day  does  the  yellow 
sun  send  one  single  and  solitary  ray 
through  the  poor  little  window.  But  at 
length,  in  changing  its  place  in  the  heav- 
ens, there  comes  a  day  in  which,  to  Lis 
surprise  and  joy,  a  flash  of  light  springs 
through  and  quivers  on  the  wall.  It  vi- 
brates upon  his  heart  still  more  tremu- 
lously than  on  the  wall.  Even  thus  much 
gives  joy.  It  warms  nothing,  and  lights 
but  little ;  but  it  brings  back  summer  to 
his  soul.  It  tells  him  that  the  sun  is  not 
dead,  but  walks  the  heavens  yet.  That 
single  ray  speaks  of  fields,  of  trees,  of 
birds,  and  of  the  whole  blue  heavens! 
So  is  it  often  in  life.  It  is  in  the  power 
of  one  blessed  thought,  in  a  truly  Christ- 
ian heart,  to  send  light  and  joy  for  hours 
and  days.  But  that  is  not  enough.  It  is 
not   enough    for   Christian    growth,    or 


130        THE  AID    OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

Christian  noiirisliment,  that  despondency 
sometimes  hopes  and  darkness  sometimes 
smiles  into  light.  A  Christian  is  to  be  a 
child  of  light,  and  to  chuell  in  the  light. 
The  whiteness  of  heavenly  robes  is  the 
light  which  they  reflect  from  the  face  of 
God.  A  Christian  is  to  bear  much  fruit. 
This  he  cannot  unless  he  abides  in  sum- 
mer. For  mere  relief,  even  a  casual 
visit  of  God's  grace  is  potential.  Bat  for 
fruit — much  fruit,  and  ripened  fruit — 
nothing  will  suffice  but  the  whole  sum- 
mer sun. 

Now,  this  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
is  both  to  be  prayed  for  and  to  be  pos- 
sessed. There  is  provision  in  the  gospel 
for  this  very  blessing.  It  is  the  promise 
of  the  Father,  and  the  pledge  of  the  Son. 
It  is  made  to  be  a  Christian's  duty  to  pray 
for  it  and  to  expect  it.  For^  in  very  deed, 
there  can  be  no  true  and  full  Christian 
riiDeness  without  it.  The  soul  forms  no 
habits,  and  comes  to  no  spiritual  con- 
formity to  God,  by  jets  and  flashes  of  ex- 


TITE  AID   OF  THE  SPIRIT.         131 

citement.  These  have  their  use,  and  are 
to  be  gladly  accepted.  But  the  soal  must 
lie  long  in  the  light ;  it  must  abide  in  Di- 
vine warmth.  There  must  be  spiritual 
summer  where  there  is  to  be  much  fruit. 
Our  thoughts  are  like  our  bodies;  men 
cannot  come  to  good  breeding  by  an  oc- 
casional entrance  into  good  society.  It  is 
habitual  commerce  with  grace  and  ameni- 
t}^  that  fashions  a  man  to  politeness.  It 
is  livino-  in  studious  habits  that  makes  a 

o 

man  learned.  And  even  more,  it  is  abid- 
ing in  God,  and  having  the  indwelling  of 
His  Spirit  with  us,  that  bring  the  soul  to 
good  manners,  if  we  may  so  speak,  in  Di- 
vine things. 

It  seems  an  impossible  thing  to  many 
to  carr}^  the  presence  and  influence  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  through  all  the  whirl  and 
occupation  of  life.  Is  it  impossible  for  a 
young  soldier  to  carry  the  spirit  of  love 
with  him  through  camp,  march,  and  bat- 
tle ?  Is  it  dif&cult  for  the  parent  to  carry 
his  soul  ftdl  of  domestic  affections  through 


132        THE  AID    OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

the  business  of  the  day  ?  Is  it  impossi- 
ble, or  even  difficult,  for  us  to  cany  with- 
in us  any  feeling  which  is  deep  and 
strong,  and  which  we  love,  in  spite  of 
exterior  disturbance  ? 

N'ay,  do  we  not  see  every  day  that  the 
heart,  by  such  enthusiasms  or  deep  emo- 
tions, not  only  goes  unchanged  through 
burdensome  life,  but  casts  out  of  itself  a 
flood  of  radiance,  and  makes  its  path  light 
by  its  own  cheerfulness  or  joy  ?  Love  in 
the  soul  is  like  perfume  in  the  garments. 
Heat  cannot  melt  it,  nor  cold  freeze  it, 
nor  the  winds  blow  it  away.  Going  forth 
or  coming  home,  it  scatters  itself,  but  is 
not  wasted ;  it  is  for  ever  going,  but  never 
gone.  And  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad 
in  the  soul  surpasses  all  fragrance  in  in- 
exhaustible diffusiveness.  If  men  have 
only  a  little  love,  an  occasional  spark,  it 
may  be  troublesome  to  nourish  it  when 
the  world  casts  down  on  it  green  fuel. 
A  large  fire  waxes  larger  by  that  very 
wind  which  blows  out  a  small  flame.     It 


THE  AID    OF  THE  SPIRIT         133 

is  even  as  St.  Peter  saith:  "If  these 
things  be  in  }^on,  and  abound^  they  make 
you  that  ye  shall  neither  be  barren  nor 
unfruitful  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ." 

The  work  of  the  Spirit  is  not  to  super- 
sede, but  to  help  our  faculties.  It  is  akin 
to  parental  training,  to  education,  to  the 
action  and  influence  of  one  mind  upon 
another.  Kot  that  God's  mind  acts  upon 
ours  just  as  ours  acts  upon  others ;  for  we 
have  no  warrant  for  saying  this.  But  the 
illustration  is  sufficient  to  shew  that  one 
mind  may  stimulate  another  to  action 
without  destroying  its  liberty.  The  young 
artist,  w^hile  he  sits  under  Kaphael,  or 
Michael  Angelo,  or  Correggio,  does  not 
expect  to  have  his  work  done  by  his  mas- 
ter. He  goes  to  witness  and  to  catch  his 
master's  enthusiasm,  that  his  own  eye  may 
be  fired  and  his  own  hand  guided.  We 
bring  up  our  children  by  the  action  of 
our  minds  upon  theirs.  Our  influence 
over  the  child  does  not  take  away  any- 


134         THE  AID    OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

thing  from  the  child's  power,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  adds  to  it.  And  so,  God  says 
to  us,  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation,  for 
I  am  working  in  you."  It  is  like  a  father 
saying  to  his  children,  "Here  am  I  work- 
ing among  you,  adding  my  experience, 
my  wisdom,  and  my  power  to  yours; 
therefore  be  hopeful  and  courageous,  and 
enter  with  zeal  upon  your  work."  It  is 
an  argument  of  hope  and  ardour,  and  not 
of  waiting  and  faltering.  It  is  an  argu- 
ment to  begin  noiu^  and  not  to  delay,  with 
the  vain  thought  that  God  will  finally  do 
all  the  work  and  leave  us  nothing  to  do. 
If  it  be  asked  how  shall  we  distinguisli 
Divine  influence  from  natural,  the  reply 
is,  We  cannot  always  do  it.  There  is  no 
intimation  in  the  JSTew  Testament  that 
anybody  can  tell.  If  a  husbandman 
wishes  to  know  whether  he  is  under  the 
influence  of  right  farming,  he  must  go 
and  look  at  his  harvests.  If,  therefore, 
a  man  says,  "  How  can  I  tell  whether 
this  feeling  is  of  God  or  of  Satan?"  he 


THE  AID    OF  THE  SPIRIT.         135 

cannot  tell  by  the  feeling,  but  by  its  re- 
sults. 

The  human  faculties,  whether  acted 
upon  by  sinister  spirits,  by  Divine  influ- 
ences, or  by  natural  causes,  always  act 
within  the  lines  and  limits  of  their  own 
laws  and  nature.  And  it  is  not  any 
difference  in  sensation  or  consciousness 
which  can  distinguish  Divine  influenc-e 
from  any  other.  We  must  abide  b}^ 
Christ's  rule  of  estimate,  "  By  their  fruit 
shall  ye  know  them."  Is  the  fruit  good  ? 
is  there  enough  of  it  ?  is  it  continuous  ? 
It  is  very  certain  that  a  disposition  of 
deep  benevolence,  a  heart'  of  unfeigned 
love,  will  lead  a  man  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  he  need  not  spend  one  anxious 
thought  lest  the  devil  should  have  in- 
spired him  with  such  influence. 

On  the  other  hand,  conceited  and  pre- 
sumptuous men  are  found,  who,  assum- 
ing that  they  are  under  the  Divine  influ- 
ence and  guidance,  follow  out  their  own 
selfish  and  fleshlj-  lusts,  and  attribute  it 
all  to  God.     But  no  man  can  have  any 


136        THE  AID    OF  THE  SPIRIT. 

evidence  that  lie  is  moved  bj  the  Spirit 
of  God,  except  in  so  far  as  the  fruit  is 
divine.  It  does  not  lie  merely  in  con- 
sciousness, in  sensation,  in  any  witness 
or  inward  light,  in  any  degree  or  kind 
of  exhilaration,  or  in  the  pleasurea- 
bleness  or  other  quality  of  the  feeling. 
The  moral  quality  of  the  life  determines 
whether  one  is  a  child  of  God  or  of  the 
devil. 

What,  then,  is  the  use- of  the  truth  of 
God's  Spirit,  if  you  cannot  discern  its 
presence  or  action  ?  It  is  good  for  gene- 
ral hopefulness.  It  gives  to  men  cour- 
age to  know  that  they  are  divinely  help- 
ed, though  they  may  not  perceive  the 
special  acts.  It  is  an  exorcism  to  fear 
and  superstition ;  for  it  exhibits  the  world 
as  illumined  and  overcome  by  the  gra- 
cious presence  of  God  working  both  in 
providence  and  in  grace,  and  throwing 
around  all  who  will  do  well  an  atmos- 
phere of  protection  and  genial  excite- 
ment, in  which  they  shall  thrive  and 
bring  forth  abundant  fruit. 


"  Come,  Holy  Ghost,  our  souls  inspire. 
And  lighten  with  celestial  fire, 
Thou  the  anointing  Spirit  art, 
Who  dost  thy  seven-fold  gifts  impart. 

"  Thy  blessed  unction  from  above, 
Is  comfort,  life,  and  fire  of  love. 
Enable  with  perpetual  light 
The  dulness  of  our  blinded  sight. 

**  Anoint  and  cheer  our  soiled  face 
With  the  abundance  of  Thy  grace. 
Keep  far  our  foes,  give  peace  at  home ; 
Where  Thou  art  guide,  no  ill  can  come. 

**  Teach  us  to  know  the  Father,  Son, 
And  Thee,  of  both,  to  be  but  One ; 
That,  through  the  ages  all  along, 
This  may  be  our  endless  song : 

"  Praise  to  Thy  eternal  merit, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit" 


fJ^nmilits  ^iJtfore  ^otf. 


Joel  ii.  12,  33. 
"  Therefore  also  now,  saith  the  Lord,  Turn  ye  even  to  me  with 
all  your  heart,  and  with  festing,  and  with  weeping,  and 
with  mourning :  and  rend  your  heart,  and  not  your  gar- 
ments, and  turn  unto  the  Lord  your  God :  for  he  is  gracious 
and  merciful,  slow  to  anger,  and  of  great  kindness." 

MiCAH  Ti.   8. 
"  He  hath  shewed  thee,  0  man,  what  is  good  ;  and  what  doth 
the  Lord  require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to  lore  mer- 
cy, and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God  ?" 

1  John  I  8,  9. 
"  If  we  say  that  we  have  no  sin,  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the 
truth  is  not  in  us.    If  we  confess  our  sins,  he  is  faithful  and 
just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us  from  all  un- 
righteousness." 

Psalm  cii.  17. 

"  He  will  regard  the  prayer  of  the  destitute,  and  not  despite 

their  prayer." 


*'  Come,  let  us  to  the  Lord  our  God 
With  contrite  hearts  return ; 
Our  God  is  gracious,  nor  will  leave 
The  desolate  to  mourn. 

*'  His  voice  commands  the  tempest  forth 
And  stills  the  stormy  wave ; 
And  though  Ilis  arm  be  strong  to  smite, 
'Tis  also  strong  to  save. 

"  Long  hath  the  night  of  sorrow  reign'd  ; 
The  dawn  shall  bring  us  light ; 
God  shall  appear,  and  we  shall  rise 
"With  gladness  in  His  sight. 

"  Our  hearts,  if  God  we  seek  to  know. 

Shall  know  Him,  and  rejoice  ; 

His  coming  like  the  morn  shall  be, 

Like  morning  songs  His  voice. 

"  As  dew  upon  the  tender  herb, 
Diffusing  fragrance  round  ; 
As  show'rs  that  usher  in  the  spring, 
And  cheer  the  thirsty  ground  : 

"  So  shall  His  presence  bless  our  souls, 
And  shed  a  joyful  light ; 
That  hallow'd  morn  shall  chase  away 
The  sorrows  of  the  night." 


fj^nmilitv  tjcfort  (Kfotr, 


ITHIKK  that  a  view  of  what  we  are 
before  God,  of  our  leanness,  of  our  lit- 
tleness, of  our  weakness  and  imperfec- 
tion, is  enough  to  keep  down  the  risings 
of  any  man's  pride.  There  are  times 
when,  if  a  man  should  receive  a  full, 
clear  view  of  what  he  is  himself,  in  com- 
parison with  what  God  is,  all  hope  and 
almost  life  itself  would  be  crushed  out  of 
him  !  And  it  is  only  when  God  reveals 
Himself  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ, 
pardoning  sins,  and  overlooking  our  er- 
rors and  imperfections,  that  we  are  en- 
abled to  have  hope !  But  while,  in  the 
view  of  God,  every  Christian  feels  that 
he  is  not  only  sinful,  but  ignominiously 
so,  and  degraded  beyond  all  expression, 
yet  there  is  in  his  experience  of  the  love 


142         HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD. 

whicli  Christ  has  for  him,  notwithstand- 
ing his  weakness  and  impurity,  a  certain 
boldness  that  lifts  him  np  and  gives  him 
confidence  to  stand  in  the  very  presence 
of  God! 

Did  you  ever  see  a  child,  which 
through  a  period  of  days  and  -weeks 
had  little  by  little  been  gathering  mis- 
chief and  disobedience,  and  seeming  to  be 
working  for  a  whipping?  By  and  by 
he  comes  to  a  state  in  which  it  is  plain 
that  there  must  be  an  outbreak;  and 
an  occasion  occurs,  perhaps,  from  some 
triflins;  circumstances,  in  which  he  is 
brought  to  a  direct  issue  with  the  par- 
ent, and  the  question  is.  Who  shall  con- 
quer, the  mother  or  the  child  ?  She  ex- 
postulates, but  the  child  grows  red  and 
swells  with  anger ;  she  pleads  with  him, 
and  uses  all  her  power  to  bring  him  to  a 
reconciliation  on  the  basis  of  justice; 
but  nothing  will  do ;  and  at  last,  when 
everything  else  has  failed,  and  she  has 
been  unable  by  gentle  means  to  subdue 


HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD.         143 

Lis  haughty  pride — if  she  does  what  she 
ought  to  do,  she  gives  him  a  sound  whip- 
ping !  He  is  quickly  subdued,  and  filled 
with  shame,  yet  not  entirely  humbled; 
but  when  he  sees  the  much-loving  moth- 
er, who  has  wept  with  even  more  pain 
and  suffering  than  the  child  himself,  go- 
ing about  the  room  —  a  kind  of  living 
music  to  the  child's  unconscious  feeling ! 
— taking  her  seat  at  last  in  some  window- 
nook,  with  sorrow  upon  her  face,  he 
comes  to  himself,  and,  thinking  a  mo- 
ment, feels  that  all  the  old  dark  flood  of 
ugliness  has  gone  away,  and  an  entirely 
new  feeling  begins  to  take  possession  of 
him.  He  looks  at  the  face  of  the  mother, 
with  love  swelling  in  his  heart,  and  wish- 
es that  he  were  sitting  at  her  feet.  And 
when  she  says,  "My  child,  why  do  you 
not  come  to  me?" — with  another  burst 
of  tears,  not  of  pain  and  wounded  feel- 
ing, but  of  joy  and  love,  he  throws  him- 
self into  her  arms,  and  buries  his  head 
in  her  bosom !      Ah !    if   I  remember 


144         HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD. 

aright,  I  can  recount  many  similar  ex- 
periences in  my  own  early  life;  and  I 
am  brought  back  into  the  remembrance 
of  such  childhood's  scenes,  because  the 
relation  of  my  own  disobedient  heart  to 
my  mother  when  she  punished  me,  is  the 
best  illustration  which  I  can  give  you  of 
the  relation  of  the  soul  of  a  rebelling 
child  of  God  to  His  chastising  hand ! 
When,  after  being  puffed  up  with  pride 
and  vanity,  from  being  engaged  in  world- 
ly pursuits,  and  being  contented  with 
mere  worldly  moralities,  I  am  suddenly, 
by  afflictions,  or  disappointments,  or  by 
the  direct  visitation  of  God's  Holy  Spir- 
it, humbled  and  brought  to  the  very 
earth  with  contrition ;  oh,  who  can  tell 
how  sweet  it  is  to  take  hold  of  the  out- 
reaching  hand  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  go  up  into  the  confidence  and  em- 
brace of  His  love!  I  am  nothing  my- 
self: I  am  entirely  humbled  and  sub- 
dued ;  only  I  feel  His  love  in  my  heart, 
and  my  heart  swells  with  love  in  return. 


HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD.  145 

These  are  days  of  sweetness !  These  are 
daj^s  of  heavenly  joy !  These  are  days 
of  true  humility  !  Oh,  how  lowly  a  man 
bows,  and  how  lowly  he  walks,  who  has 
a  view  of  his  own  littleness  and  empti- 
ness in  comparison  with  the  greatness 
and  the  fulness  of  the  ever-living  and 
ever-loving  God ! 


Wf\t  JPragrr^JHcctinfl, 


Malachi  iii.  16, 17. 
'  fhen  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  at  other : 
and  the  Lord  hearkened,  and  heard  it,  and  a  book  of  re- 
membrance was  written  before  him  for  them  that  feared  the 
Lord,  and  that  thought  upon  his  name.  And  they  shall  be 
mine,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up 
my  jewels ;  and  I  will  spare  them,  as  a  man  spareth  his  own 
son  that  serveth  liim." 

ECCLESIASTES  V.  2. 

'  Be  not  rash  with  thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thine  heart  be  hasty 
to  utter  any  thing  before  God  :  for  God  is  in  heaven,  and 
thou  upon  earth  :  therefore  let  thy  words  be  few." 

1  John-  ii.  23,  29. 
'  And  now,  little  children,  abide  in  him  ;  that  when  he  shall  ap- 
pear, we  may  have  confidence,  and  not  be  ashamed  before 
him  at  his  coming.   If  ye  know  that  he  is  righteous,  ye  know 
that  every  one  that  doeth  righteousness  is  born  of  him." 

Matthew  xviii.  19,  20. 
■  Again  I  say  unto  you.  That  if  two  of  you  shall  agree  on  eartli 
as  touching  anything  that  they  shall  ask,  it  shall  be  done 
for  tliem  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  For  where  two 
or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name,  there  am  I  in 
the  midst  of  them." 


"  Jesus,  where'er  Thy  people  meet, 
There  they  behold  Thy  mercy-seat ; 
Where'er  they  seek  Thee,  Thou  art  found, 
And  every  place  is  hallow'd  ground. 

"  For  Thou,  within  no  walls  confined, 
Inhabitest  the  humble  mind  ; 
Such  ever  bring  Thee  where  they  come, 
And  going,  take  Thee  to  their  home. 

"  Dear  Shepherd  of  Thy  chosen  few, 
Thy  former  mercies  here  renew  ; 
Here  to  our  waiting  hearts  proclaim 
The  sweetness  of  Thy  saving  name. 

"  Here  may  we  prove  the  power  of  prayer 
To  strengthen  faith,  and  sweeten  care ; 
To  teach  our  faint  desires  to  rise, 
And  bring  all  heaven  before  our  eyes. 

"  Behold,  at  Thy  commanding  word. 
We  stretch  the  curtain  and  the  cord  ; 
Come  Thou  and  fill  this  wider  space, 
And  bless  us  with  a  large  increase. 

•'  Lord,  we  are  few,  but  Thou  art  near  ; 
Nor  short  Thine  arm,  uor  deaf  Thine  ear : 
Oh  rend  the  heavens,  come  quickly  down. 
And  make  a  thousand  hearts  Thine  own  !" 

COWPEK. 


rijc  JlraijtC'JHcetins- 


4  PRAYER-MEETIXa  is  a  place  for 
■^  social  religious  life.  It  is  not  for 
preaching,  nor  is  it  necessarily  for  ex- 
hortation. It  is  a  place  where  Christ- 
ians MEET  to  instruct  and  strengthen  one 
another  by  a  free  and  familiar  develop- 
ment of  their  religions  experiences  and 
emotions.  It  is  an  altar  for  whose  fire 
every  Christian  brings  a  brand,  and  where 
the  whole  pile  is  made  up  of  the  added 
faggots  of  many  enkindled  hearts. 

This  is  the  primary  idea  of  a  praj^er- 
meeting.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the 
first  step  towards  a  wholesome  meeting  is 
truthfulness.  Yet  it  is  this  important  ele- 
ment which  is  apt  to  be  most  often  lack- 
ing. It  is  thought  necessary,  even  by  ad- 
vanced Christians,  to  assume  a  sense  of 


150  THE  PRAYER-MEETING. 

awful  responsibility,  to  put  on  an  air  of 
profound  solemnity,  and  to  manifest  an 
eminently  devout  spirit.  But  these  feel- 
ings are  never  proper,  except  when  they 
are  real.  They  should  never  be  assumed. 
They  should  never  be  put  on  and  worn 
as  a  kind  -of  appropriate  dress,  becoming 
to  the  occasion.  Men  should  not  lay  aside 
their  naturalness  before  God,  any  more 
than  before  men  —  and  even  less,  as  God 
can  see  through  the  guise  when  men  may 
not.  They  should  not  pretend  to  be  what 
they  are  not,  any  more  in  a  prayer-meet- 
ing with  their  brethren  than  alone  in  their 
own  private  closet.  Any  pretentious 
mood,  or  any  forced  and  artificial  feeling, 
will  always  do  harm,  for  it  will  overlay 
the  mind,  as  straw  and  dry  leaves  overlay 
the  soil,  so  that  nothing  is  able  to  spring 
up. 

No  man  should  utter  a  word  in  a  pray- 
er-meeting which  is  not  spoken  in  sin- 
cerity. It  is  a  great  and  grievous  sin  for 
a  man  to  utter  prayers  to  God  when  his 


THE  PRAYER-MEETiya.  lol 

heart  neither  suggests  nor  enters  into  the 
petitions.  It  is  a  piece  of  mockery  that 
no  man  would  endure,  much  less  God. 
For  any  creature  to  bow  before  his  Crea- 
tor, and  say  prayers,  whether  they  be 
long  or  short,  printed  or  unprinted,  which 
do  not  engage  his  heart,  but  which  he  ut- 
ters from  a  mere  sense  of  duty,  or  from 
superstitious  fear,  or  from  habit,  is  an  in- 
expressible audacity.  Yet  it  is  often  done. 
And  it  is  said,  "  If  you  do  not  feel  like 
praying,  pray  till  you  do."  ISTow,  there 
certainly  are  degrees  of  interest ;  and  a 
man  may  be  blameless  for  experiencing 
less  fervour  at  the  beginning  of  a  devo- 
tional period  than  at  the  end  of  it.  But 
for  a  man  to  employ  prayer  as  a  mere  ex- 
ercise, or  as  a  mere  mode  of  giving  him- 
self a  stirring  up — to  stand  before  God 
and  assume  the  tones,  the  language,  the 
manner  of  feeling,  for  the  sake  of  coming 
by  and  by  into  the  feeling,  is  a  desecra- 
tion of  prayer  almost  blasphemous. 
If  it  be  asked,  "  What,  then,  shall  a 


152  THE  PRAYER-MEETING. 

man  do?  Sliall  he  neglect  prayer  until 
he  does  feel?  Shall  he  refuse  to  take 
part  in  a  prayer-meeting  until  the  glow  is 
upon  him?"  the  answer  is,  that  such  a 
man  should  not  neglect  prayer,  neither  in 
his  closet,  nor  jDerhaps  in  the  prayer-meet- 
ing. But  he  must  prepare  himself  for 
prayer.  He  must  watch  and  study  for 
the  disposition.  He  should  refresh  his 
mind  with  scriptural  truths,  and  should 
consider  his  own  wants  and  sinfulness. 
This  he  should  do  apart  from  noise  and 
excitement,  if  possible ;  and  he  may  be 
aided  in  doing  it  by  employing  hymns 
and  psalms,  which  will  oftentimes  speedily 
carry  his  mind  out  of  a  dull  and  dead 
frame  into  some  beofinninffs  of  life.     He 

o  o 

may  thus  come  into  a  state  in  which 
prayer  Avill  not  be  a  stupid  act,  or  a  dead 
form,  but  the  glowing  expression  of  a 
living  feeling. 

This  is  a  proper  preparation  for  prayer, 
whether  public  or  private.  If  prayers  in 
a  prayer-meeting  cannot  be  genuine,  they 


THE  PRAYER-MEETING.  153 

might  better  be  omitted,  and  hymns  snng 
in  their  place.  If  but  a  single  sentence  is 
uttered,  let  it  be  real ;  and  let  utterance 
cease  when  the  heart  no  longer  prompts — 
and  the  heart  will  often  have  ceased  its 
promptings  long  before  a  recitation  of  fif- 
teen minutes  is  concluded.  One  moment 
of  real  communion  with  God  is  praj'er, 
but  a  whole  hour  of  recited  words,  with- 
out feeling,  is  not  prayer,  and  is  worse 
than  none. 

The  way  to  kill  a  prayer-meeting  is  to 
make  it  conventional :  and  the  chief  se- 
cret of  conducting  it  so  that  it  shall  min- 
ister to  edification,  is  to  force  people  out 
of  conventional  ways ;  to  break  uj)  heredi- 
tary and  stereotyped  unwritten  forms  of 
prayer  ;  to  charm  men  into  forgetfulness 
of  the  machinery  of  the  meeting ;  so  that 
they  shall  pray  artlessly,  naturally,  and 
sensibly. 

But,  above  all,  let  all  pretei^.ce,  all 
mock  solemnity  and  devotion,  be  put 
away.     Let  no  man  suffer  himself  to  aD- 


154  THE  FRAYER-MEETWG. 

pear  to  his  brethren  to  be  what  he  is  not ; 
for  this  is  part  of  the  injunction,  "  Let 
every  man  speak  truth  with  his  neigh- 
bour." If  this  rule  be  not  observed,  and 
the  frequent  tendencies  to  violate  it  be  not 
corrected,  the  praj^er-meeting  will  degen- 
erate, and  people  will  lose  first  all  profit 
and  then  all  interest  in  them.  For,  what 
if  people  should  go  to  an  evening  party, 
not  in  their  natural  character,  but  one 
striving  to  be  brilliant,  another  to  be 
witty,  another  to  be  instructive,  another 
to  be  profound  ?  Who  could  endure  the 
sham  ?  There  is  need  in  prayer-meetings 
of  men  who  are  willing  to  stand  simply 
and  only  on  what  they  are  and  what  they 
have. 

The  speaking  in  prayer-meetings  should 
be  conversational,  and  so,  natural.  The 
words  spoken  should  flow  naturally  from 
the  heart's  experience,  or  else  it  were 
better  to  be  silent.  Usually,  however, 
when  a  man  has  nothing  to  say,  be  gets 
up  and  exhorts  sinners  to  repent ;  or  an- 


THE  PRAYER-MEETING.  155 

other,  whose  heart  is  empty,  informs  the 
church  that  thej  are  very  cold,  and  live 
for  beneath  their  privileges.  Such  pray- 
ers or  exhortations  may  be  very  glib  and 
fluent,  but  they  are  as  dry  of  sap  or  juice 
as  last  year's  corn-husks.  They  are  not 
only  profitless  but  damaging.  On  the 
contrary,  there  are  oftentimes  prayers, 
humble,  timid,  half  inaudible,  the  utter- 
ances of  uncultivated  lips,  that  may  cut  a 
poor  figure  as  literature,  that  are  never- 
theless not  to  be  scornfully  disdained. 
If  a  child  may  not  talk  at  all  till  he  can 
speak  fluent  English,  he  will  never  learn. 
There  should  be  a  process  going  on  con- 
tinually of  education,  by  which  all  the 
members  of  the  church  should  be  able 
to  contribute  of  their  experiences  and 
gifts ;  and,  in  such  a  course  of  develop- 
ment, the  first  hesitating,  stumbling,  un- 
grammatical  prayer  of  a  confused  Christ- 
ian may  be  worth  more  to  the  church 
than  the  best  prayer  of  the  most  eloquent 
pastor.     The  praj-er  may  be  but  little; 


156  THE  PRAYER-MEETING. 

but  it  is  not  a  little  thing  that  a  church 
has  one  more  man  who  is  beginning  to 
pray  than  it  had  before. 

The  conductor  of  a  prayer-meetmg 
should  have  a  distinct  conception  of  what 
such  a  meeting  is  to  be  and  to  do  ;  and 
as  it  is  a  mutual-instruction  class,  a  place 
for  religious  feeling  to  take  the  social  ele- 
ment, his  chief  duty  should  be  to  draw 
out  the  timid,  to  check  the  obtrusive,  to 
encourage  simple  and  true  speaking,  and 
to  apply  religious  truths  to  those  wants 
and  struggles  and  experiences  which  are 
freely  mentioned  there.* 

♦  See  Appendix. 


"  Jesus  !  thy  saints  assemble  here 
Thy  power  and  goodness  to  declare : 
Oh,  may  these  happy  reasons  prove 
That  we  have  known  redeeming  love ! 

"  And  while  of  mercies  past  we  speak, 
And  sing  of  endless  joys  to  come, 
Let  Thy  full  glories  on  us  break, 
And  every  thought  give  Jesus  room. 

"  Engrave  Thy  name  on  every  heart, 
And  give  us  all,  before  we  part, 
The  life-restoring  joys  to  know 
Which  from  Thy  veins  in  rivers  flow. 

"  No  other  food  can  we  desire, 
No  other  theme  our  bosoms  fire, 
But  sovereign,  rich,  redeeming  love 
■\Vhile  here,  and  when  we  dwell  above ! 

"  Thine  everlasting  love  we  sing, 
The  source  whence  all  our  pleasures  spring 
How  deep  it  sinks,  how  high  its  flow. 
No  saint  can  tell,  no  angel  know  ! 

*'  Its  length  and  breadth  no  eye  can  trace, 
No  thought  explain  the  bounds  of  grace. 
Like  its  dear  Author's  name,  it  shines 
In  infinite  unfolded  lines  ! 

"  The  love  which  saves  our  souls  from  hell. 
On  this  side  heaven  we  ne'er  can  tell ; 
But  when  we  reach  bright  Canaan's  plains. 
We'll  sound  it  in  immortal  strains." 

SWAIXE. 


^f^t  Jlrapcrlcss  ILife* 


Hebretts  iii.  12-15. 
Take  heed,  brethren,  lest  there  be  in  any  of  you  an  evil  heart 
of  unbelief,  in  departing  from  the  living  God.  But  exhort 
one  another  daily,  while  it  is  called  To-day  ;  lest  any  of  you 
be  hardened  through  the  deceitfulness  of  gin.  For  we  are 
made  partaker?  of  Christ,  if  we  hold  the  beginning  of  our 
confidence  stedfast  unto  the  end  ;  while  it  is  said.  To-day  if 
ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts,  as  in  the 
provocation." 


'  In  streets,  and  openings  of  the  gates, 

Where  pours  the  busy  crowd, 
Thus  heav'nly  Wisdom  lifts  her  voice, 

And  cries  to  men  aloud  : 
How  long,  ye  scorners  of  the  truth, 

Scornful  will  ye  remain  ? 
How  long  shall  fools  their  folly  love, 

And  hear  my  words  in  vain  ? 

*  0  turn,  at  last,  at  my  reproof  ! 

And,  in  that  happy  hour, 
His  bless'd  effusions  on  your  heart 

My  Spirit  down  shall  pour, 
But  since  so  long,  with  earnest  voice, 

To  you  in  vain  I  call. 
Since  all  my  counsels  and  reproofs 

Thus  ineffectual  fall ; 

'  The  time  will  come,  when  humbled  low, 

In  Sorrow's  evil  day. 
Tour  voice  by  anguish  shall  be  taught. 

But  taught  too  late,  to  pray. 
When,  like  the  whirlwind,  o'er  the  deep 

Comes  Desolation's  blast : 
Pray'rs  then  extorted  shall  be  vain. 

The  hour  of  mercy  past. 

■'  The  choice  you  made  has  fix'd  your  doom  : 
For  this  is  Heav'n's  decree. 
That  with  the  fruits  of  what  he  sow'd 
The  sinner  fill'd  shall  be." 


Ki)t  piMgcrlcss   ILift. 


TT7E  liave  known  men — upon  whose 
'  *  grounds  waved  magnificent  trees  of 
centuries'  growth,  lifted  up  into  the  air 
with  vast  breadth,  and  full  of  twilight  at 
mid-day — who  cut  down  all  these  mighty 
monarchs,  and  cleared  the  ground  bare ; 
and  then,  when  the  desolation  was  com- 
plete, and  the  fierce  summer  gazed  full 
into  their  face  with  its  fire,  they  be- 
thought themselves  of  shade,  and  forth- 
with set  out  a  generation  of  thin,  shadow- 
less sticks,  pining  and  waiting  till  they 
should  stretch  out  their  boughs  with 
protection,  and  darken  the  ground  with 
grateful  shadow.  Such  folly  is  theirs 
who  refuse  the  tree  of  life,  the  shadow 
of  the  Almighty,  and  sit,  instead,  under 
the  feeble  trees  of  their  own  planting, 


162  THE  PRAYERLE8S  LIFE. 

Avhose  tops  will  never  be  broad  enougb 
to  shield  them,  and  whose  bonghs  will 
never  voice  to  them  the  music  of  the  air. 
Some  of  the  most  remarkable  figures  of 
the  Bible  are  made  to  illustrate  this  sad 
truth. 

The  mountains  lift  their  tops  so  high 
in  the  air  that  towering  clouds,  which 
have  no  rest  in  the  sky,  love  to  come  to 
them,  and,  wrapping  about  their  tops, 
distil  their  moisture  upon  them.  Thus 
mountains  hold  commerce  with  Grod's 
upper  ocean,  and,  like  good  men,  draw 
supplies  from  the  invisible.  And  so  it 
is  that,  in  the  times  of  drought  in  the 
vales  below,  the  rocks  are  always  wet. 
The  mountain  moss  is  always  green. 
The  seams  and  crevices  are  always  drip- 
ping, and  rock- veins  are  throbbing  a  full 
pulse,  while  all  the  scene  down  below 
faints  for  want  of  moisture.  In  some 
hidden  gorge,  unvisited  by  the  sun,  these 
cold  rills  bubble  up  and  issue  forth  upon 
their  errand.     Could  one  who  builds  his 


THE  PRAYERLESS  LIFE.  163 

bouse  upon  the  plain  but  meet  and  tap 
tbese  springs  in  the  mountain,  and  lay 
bis  artificial  channels  to  the  very  source, 
be  would  never  know  wben  drought 
cometb.  For  mountain  springs  never 
grow  dry  so  long  as  clouds  brood  the 
bill  tops.  Day  and  night  they  gush  and 
fall  with  liquid  plash  and  unheard  music  ; 
except  when  thirsty  birds  —  to  whose 
song  the  rivulet  all  day  long  has  been  a 
bass  —  stoop  to  drink  at  their  crystal 
edges!  And  be  who  has  put  himself 
into  communication  with  these  mountain 
springs  shall  never  be  unsupplied.  While 
artificial  cisterns  dry  up,  and  crack  for 
dryness,  this  mountain  fountain  comes 
night  and  day  with  cool  abundance. 
While  others,  with  weary  strokes,  force 
up  from  deep  wells  a  penurious  supply 
of  turbid  water,  he  that  has  joined  him- 
self to  a  mountain  spring  has  its  voice  in 
his  dwelling  night  and  day,  summer  and 
winter,  without  work  or  stroke  of  labour- 
ing  pump,    clear,    sweet,   and  cheerful ; 


1G4  THE  FRAYERLESS  LIFE. 

running  of  its  own  accord  to  serve,  and 
singing  at  its  work,  more  musical  than 
any  lute  ;  and  in  its  song  bringing  sug- 
gestions of  its  mountain  home. 

With  such  a  spring — near,  accessible, 
urging  itself  upon  the  eye  and  ear — how 
great  would  be  his  folly  who  should 
abandon  it,  and  fill  his  attic  with  a  lead- 
en cistern,  that  forever  leaked  when  full, 
and  was  dry  when  it  did  not  leak  !  List- 
en, then,  to  the  Word  of  God — "  My  peo- 
ple have  committed  two  evils :  they  have 
forsaken  me,  the  fountain  of  living  wa- 
ters, and  have  hewed  them  out  cisterns, 
broken  cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water." 

Man  is  not  made  to  be  independent  in 
his  powers.  With  all  his  endowments 
he  is  made  to  lean  on  every  side  for  sup- 
port; and  should  his  connexions  on 
either  side  be  cut,  he  would  droojD  and 
wither  like  a  tree  whose  roots  had  been 
sundered. 

The  eye  carries  no  light  with  it,  but 
receives  its  sight  from  the  luminous  ele- 


TILE  PRAYERLESS  LIFE.  165 

merit  witliout.  The  ear  liatli  no  sound 
within  it,  but  only  receives  it  from  with- 
out. The  tongue  and  throat  beat  upon 
the  air  for  vibrations,  as  a  musician 
strikes  for  musical  sounds ;  and  if  hin- 
dered in  their  connexions  or  broken  from 
their  dependencies,  ear,  tongue,  and  eye 
would  fall  back  into  voiceless  darkness. 
And  every  bodily  function  is  directly  or 
immediately  joined  to  the  physical  world 
in  such  a  way,  that,  while  man  is  lord  of 
creation,  he  is  also  its  subject  and  de- 
pendent, and  must  ask  leave  to  exist 
from  the  earth,  the  air,  the  sun,  and  the 
clouds. 

These  dependent  relations  symbolise 
the  yet  more  important  relations  which 
the  soul  sustains  to  God.  Man  is  not 
made  to  exist  in  rounded,  perfect,  and 
independent  spiritual  life  in  his  own  right 
and  nature.  He  only  is  a  perfect  man 
who  has  himself  in  the  keeping  of  God. 
The  soul  only,  when  divinely  influenced, 
receives  its   power.     Our   faculties,  like 


i66  THE  PRAYERLESS  LIF^. 

the  eye  that  must  be  filled  with,  light 
from  without,  wait  for  their  power  from 
above.  It  is  the  Divine  energy,  acting 
through  the  human  faculty,  that  gives  to 
man  his  real  existence.  Nor  does  any 
man  know  his  power,  his  nature,  his 
richness  of  emotion,  the  height  and 
depth  of  his  being,  until  he  unfolds 
under  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  the 
living  God. 

What  is  this  influence  which  acts  with- 
in or  upon  the  soul?  I  will  tell  you 
when  you  will  tell  me  what  it  is  in  light 
and  heat  that  works  upon  the  root  to 
bring  forth  the  stem ;  what  it  is  that 
works  within  the  stem  to  bring  forth  the 
bud  ;  what  it  is  that  works  upon  the  bud 
to  persuade  it  into  blossom ;  and  what 
that  mysterious  spirit  is,  that,  dismissing 
the  beauty  of  the  bloom,  holds  back  its 
life  in  the  new  form  of  fruit.  It  is  light, 
it  is  heat,  it  is  moisture,  it  is  the  soil,  it  is 
the  plant,  it  is  the  vital  energy  of  nature. 
Thus  we  stand  throwing  words  at  a  mar- 


THE  PRAYERLESS  LIFE.  167 

vellous  change,  whose  interior  nature  we 
cannot  search  nor  find  out.  "  So  is  every 
one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit." 

But  of  the  fact  itself,  it  is  full  of  bless- 
edness to  know  that  the  soul  has  a  rela.- 
tionship  to  God — personal,  direct,  vital — 
and  that  it  grows  and  blossoms  by  it, 
while  it  languishes  and  dwarfs  without  it. 

The  body  grows  by  its  true  connex- 
ions with  material  nature ;  the  social  af- 
fections grow  by  their  true  relations  to 
men  and  society ;  and  the  spiritual  pow- 
ers must  grow  by  their  true  relations  to 
Grod.  In  the  material  world,  the  roots  of 
trees  are  in  the  ground,  while  the  top 
moves  freely  above.  But  the  soul  roots 
upward,  and  so,  like  long  pendulous 
vines  of  air-plants,  that  root  upon  tropi- 
cal branches^  has  its  liberty  down  toward 
the  earth.  We  are  the  branches  of 
Christ.  "  As  the  branch  cannot  bear 
fruit  of  itself,  except  it  abide  in  the  vine, 
no  more  can  ye  except  ye  abide  in  me." 

But  is  not  this  a  bonda.^e  and  restric- 


168  THE  FRAYERLES8  LIFE. 

tion  ?  To  selfisliness  it  may  be  ;  but  not 
to  love.  Selfisliness  grows  strong  by 
shrinking,  for  concentration  is  tlie  nature 
of  selfishness.  But  love  grovfs  by  press- 
ing outward  and  evolving. 

That  we  are  bound  to  God  is  as  great 
a  restriction  of  our  liberty,  as  it  is  to  a 
plant's  freedom  to  be  held  by  the  sun ; 
to  the  child's  liberty,  that  the  double- 
orbed  love  of  father  and  mother  bear  it 
up  from  cradled  nothiDgness  to  manly 
power  ;  or  to  the  human  heart's  liberty, 
when,  finding  another  life,  two  souls 
move  through  the  sphere  of  love,  flying 
now  with  double  wings,  but  one  spirit. 

No  man  has  come  to  himself  who  has 
not  known  what  it  is  to  be  utterly  forget- 
ful of  self  in  loving.  As  a  bird  born  in 
a  cage,  and  singing  there,  amid  short, 
impatient  hops,  from  perch  to  wire,  from 
wire  to  ring,  and  from  ring  to  perch 
again,  so  is  man  unrenewed.  As  this 
bird,  when  darting  through  the  opened 
door,  feels  with  wondrous  thrill  the  wide 


THE  PRAYERLESS  LIFE.  169 

sweep  of  the  open  air,  and  dare  not  sing 
for  jo  J,  but  goes  from  ground  to  limb, 
from  lower  limb  to  higher,  until  the  top- 
most bough  be  reached,  and  then  stoop- 
ing for  a  moment,  springs  upward  and 
flies  with  wild  delight,  and  fills  the  air 
as  it  goes  with  all  its  sounds  of  ransomed 
joy — so  is  the  soul  that  first  learns  its 
liberty  in  God,  and  goes  singing  heaven- 
ward in  all  "the  light  and  liberty  of  the 
sons  of  God." 

He  who  forsakes  God  for  a  greater  lib- 
erty, is  like  a  babe  lost  from  its  mother. 
They  who  refrain  from  God  for  the  sake 
of  pleasure,  are  like  men  running  from 
the  free  air  to  seek  sunlight  amid  shad- 
ows and  in  dungeons.  They  who  with- 
draw from  God  that  they  may  have 
wider  circuits  of  personal  power,  are  like 
birds  that  forsake  the  forests  and  fly 
within  the  fowler's  cage,  to  find  a  larger 
bound  and  wider  liberty. 


^ppcntri^. 


"  It  has  long  appeared  to  my  mind  a 
great  evil  that  a  certain  cant  phraseology^ 
or  stock  of  phrases^  has  come  somehow  to 
be  handed  about  from  parish  to  parish, 
yea,  down  from  generation  to  generation, 
until  our  good  people  have  learned  to  re- 
gard it  as  all  from  the  Bible  —  not  only 
adopting  it  into  their  family  and  social 
prayers,  but  fathering  it  upon  God's 
Word.  Here,  however,  detail  is  every- 
thing ;  and  I  will  venture  to  give  some 
examples  of  the  phraseology  referred  to, 
arranging  it,  for  the  sake  of  distinctness, 
under  two  or  three  heads. 

"  There  is  what  might  be  called  an  un- 
happy, sometimes  quite  grotesque,  min- 
gling of  Scripture  texts.  Who  is  not 
familiar  with  the  following   words   ad- 


172  APPENDIX. 

dressed  to  God  in  prayer, — '  Thou  art  the 
high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eter- 
nity and  the  praises  thereof^ — which  is  but 
a  jumble  of  two  glorious  texts,  each  glori- 
ous taken  by  itself,  both  marred,  and  one 
altogether  'lost  indeed,  when  thus  com- 
bined and  mingled.  The  one  is  Isaiah 
Ivii.  15,  '  Thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty 
One  that  inhahiteth  eternity^  whose  name 
is  Holy.'  The  other  is  Psalm  xxii.  8, 
'  Thou  art  holy,  0  thou  that  inhah'test  the 
praises  of  IsraeV  The  inhabiting  of  the 
praises  of  eternity.^  to  say  the  least,  is 
meagre ;  there  were  no  praises  in  the  past 
eternity  to  inhabit.  But  what  a  glory  is 
there  in  God's  condescending  to  inhabit, 
take  up  His  very  abode,  in  the  praises  of 
Israel,  of  the  ransomed  Church  !  Then 
there  is  an  example  nothing  less  than 
grotesque,  under  this  head,  and  yet  one 
in  such  frequent  use,  that  I  suspect  it  is 
very  generally  regarded  as  having  the 
sanction  of  Scripture.  Here  it  is  — '  We 
would  put  our  hand  on  our  mouth,  and 


APPENDIX.  173 

our  mouth  in  the  dust,  and  ciy  out,  Un- 
clean, unclean  !  God  be  merciful  to  me, 
a  sinner !'  This  is  no  fewer  than  four 
texts  joined,  each  beautiful  by  itself 
First,  Job  xl.  4,  '  Behold,  I  am  vile ;  what 
shall  I  answer  thee  ?  I  will  lay  my  hand 
upon  my  mouth.'  Second,  Lamentations 
iii.  29,  '  He  putteth  his  mouth  in  the 
dust;  if  so  be  there  may  be  hope.' 
Third,  Leviticus  xiii.  45,  where  the  leper 
is  directed  to  put  a  covering  upon  his 
upper  lip,  and  to  cry,  '  Unclean,  un- 
clean I'  And  fourth,  the  publican's  pray- 
er. But  how  incongruous  a  man's  first 
putting  his  hand  on  his  mouth  then  put- 
ting his  mouth  in  the  dust,  and,  last  of 
all,  crjdng  out,  &c. ! 

"The  only  other  example  I  give  under 
this  head,  is  an  expression  nearly  uni- 
versal among  us,  and,  I  suspect,  almost 
universally  thought  to  be  in  Scripture  — 
'In  thy  favour  is  life,  and  thy  loving- 
kindness  is  better  than  life.'  The  fact  is, 
that  this  also  is  just  an  unhappy  combina- 


174  APPENDIX. 

tion  of  two  passages,  in  which  the  term 
life  is  "Qsed  in  altogether  cliiFerent,  and 
even  incompatible,  senses — namely  Psalm 
XXX.  5,  'In  his  favour  is  life,'  life,  of 
course,  in  the  higher  sense  of  true  bless- 
edness ;  and  Psalm  Ixiii.  8,  '  Thy  loving- 
kindness  is  better  than  life,' — where,  ev- 
idently, life  means  the  present  temporal 
life. 

"  A  second  class  maybe  described  as 
■unhappy  alterations  of  Scripture  lan- 
guage. Need  I  say  that  the  130th 
Psalm,  '  Out  of  the  depths,'  &c.,  is  one 
of  the  most  precious  in  the  whole  book 
of  the  Psalms  ?  Why  must  we  have  the 
words  of  David  and  the  Holy  Grhost  thus 
given  in  public  prayer,  and  so  constantly, 
that  our  pious  people  come  all  to  adopt 
it  into  their  social  and  family  prayers, 
'  There  is  forgiveness  with  thee,  that  thou 
mayest  be  feared,  and  plenteous  redemp- 
tion, that  thou  mayest  he  sought  after^  or 
unto  V  How  precious  the  simple  words 
as  they  stand  in  the   Psalm,    (ver.   4,) 


APPENDIX.  175 

There  is  forgiveness  with  thee,  that  thou 
mayest  be  feared  :'  (ver.  7,  8,)  '  AVith  the 
Lord  there  is  mercy,  and  with  him  is 
plenteous  redemption;  and  he  shall  re- 
deem Israel  from  all  his  iniquities ! ' 
Again  in  this  blessed  Psalm,  the  words 
of  the  third  verse,  '  If  thou,  Lord,  should 
mark  iniquities,  0  Lord^  who  shall  stand?' 
too  seldom  are  left  us  in  their  naked  sim- 
plicity, but  must  undergo  the  following 
change,  '  If  thou  wert  strict  to  mark  in- 
iquity,' &c.  I  remember  in  my  old  Col- 
lege days,  we  used  to  have  it  in  a  much 
more  offensive  shape,  '  If  thou  wert  strict 
to  mark  and  rigorous  to  punish  !  ' 

"  Another  favourite  change  is  tlie  fol- 
lowing,— 'Thou  art  in  heaven,  and  we 
upon  the  earth  ;  therefore  let  our  words 
be  few  and  ivell  ordered^  Solomon's  sim- 
ple and  sublime  utterance  (full  of  instruc- 
tion, surely  on  the  whole  theme  I  am 
dealing  with)  is,  '  God  is  in  heaven,  and 
thou  upon  earth  ;  therefore  let  thy  words 
hefew^  (Eccles.  v.  2.)   For  another  exam- 


176  APPENDIX. 

pie  under  this  class,  see  how  Habakkiik's 
sublime  words  are  tortured,  '  Thou  art  of 
purer  eyes  than  to  behold  evil,  and  canst 
not  look  on  sin  without  ahhorrencej  The 
words  of  the  Holy  Ghost  are  (Hab.  i.  13,) 
'  Thou  art  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold 
evil,  and  canst  not  look  on  iniquity. 
ISTeed  I  say  that  the  power  of  the  figure, 
'canst  not  look  on  iniquity,'  is  nearly 
lost,  when  you  add  that  God  can  look  on 
it,  only  not  without  abhorrence  ? 

"  A  third  class  is  made  up  of  meaning- 
less pleonasms,  vulgar  common-place  re- 
dundancies of  expression,  in  quoting  from 
the  Scriptures.  One  of  these  has  become 
so  universal,  that  I  venture  to  say  you 
seldom  miss  it,  when  the  passage  referred 
to  comes  up  at  all.  '  Be  in  the  midst  of 
us,'  (or,  as  some  prefer  to  express  it,  I 
humbly  think  not  in  the  best  taste,  '  in  our 
midst')  '  to  bless  us,  and  to  do  us  goodJ 
What  additional  idea  is  there  in  the  last 
expression,  '  and  to  do  us  good  ?'  The 
passage  referred  to  is  Exod.  xx.  24,  '  In 


APPENDIX.  177 

all  places  where  I  record  my  name,  I 
will  come  unto  jou,  and  I  will  bless  you.' 
Such  is  the  simplicity  of  Scripture.  Our 
addition  is,  'bless  us  and  do  us  good.' 
In  Dan.  iv.  35,  we  read  the  noble  words, 
'ISTone  can  stay  his  hand,  or  say  unto 
him,  What  doest  thou?'  The  favourite 
change  is,  '  Kone  can  stay  thy  hand/ror/i 
luorhing.''  'Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart 
of  man  the  things  which  God  hath  pre- 
pared for  them  that  love  him.'  This  is 
changed,  '  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man  to  conceive  the  things.'  Con- 
stantly we  hear  God  addressecl  as  '  the 
hearer  and  answerer  of  prayer ' —  a  mere 
vulgar  and  useless  pleonasm,  for  the 
Scripture  idea  of  God's  hearing  prayer  is 
just  His  answering  it— '0  thou  that 
hearest  prayer,  unto  thee  shall  all  flesh 
come;'  'Hear  my  prayer,  O  Lord;'  'I 
]ove  the  Lord  because  he  hath  heard  my 
voice  and  my  supplications.'  Whence, 
again,  that  common-place  of  public  pray- 


178  APPENDIX. 

er,  '  Thy  consolations  are  neither  few  nor 
small.'  The  reference,  I  suppose,  is  to 
these  words  of  Job,  '  Are  the  consolations 
of  God  small  with  thee  ?'  So  one  scarce 
ever  hears  that  prayer  of  the  seventy- 
fourth  Psalm,  ^  Have  respect  to  the  cov- 
enant, for  the  dark  places  of  the  earth  are 
full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty,'  without 
the  addition,  ^horrid  cruelty;"'  nor  the 
call  to  prayer  in  Isaiah,  'Keep  not  si- 
lence, and  give  him  no  rest,  till  he  estab- 
lish, and  till  he  make  Jerusalem  a  praise 
in  the  earth,'  without  the  addition  'the 
tvhole  earth;'  nor  that  appeal  of  the 
Psalmist,  '  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but 
thee  ?  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that 
I  desire  beside  thee,'  without  the  addi- 
tion '  none  in  all  the  earth.'  These  last 
may  seem  small  matters,  indeed.  And 
so  they  are,  nor  were  worth  finding  fault 
with,  did  they  occur  but  occasionally. 
Bat  viewed  as  stereotyped  common- 
places^ weak  enough  in  themselves,  and 
occurring  so  often  as  to  give  an  impres- 


APPENDIX.  179 

sion  of  their  having  Scripture  authority, 
I  humbly  think  they  ought  to  be  dis- 
countenanced and  discarded  —  banished 
wholly  from  our  Presbyterian  worship. 
It  will,  perhaps,  surprise  you  to  learn 
that  the  only  Scripture  authority  for  that 
favourite,  and  somewhat  peculiar  expres- 
sion, about  the  '  wicked  rolling  sin  as  a 
sweet  morsel  under  their  tongue,'  is  the 
following  words  in  the  book  of  Job  (xx. 
12,)  '  Though  wickedness  be  sweet  in  his 
mouth,  though  he  hide  it  under  his 
tongue.' 

"  As  for  some  old,  almost  heathenish, 
expressions  one  used  to  hear,  I  hope  they 
are  pretty  well  out  among  us  —  such  as, 
'Thou  art  the  greatest,  and  wisest,  and 
best  of  all  beings.'  Of  course  this  is  not 
to  be  endured  from  a  Christian  pulpit. 
Holy  Scripture  never  speaks  of  God  as 
greatest,  wisest,  best,  but  as  the  'I  am,' 
'only  wise,'  'only  good,'  'who  only 
doeth  great  wonders,'  and  so  on." —  TJie 
Rev.  C.  F.  Brown^s  Tract  on  Prayer. 


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